Aftermath
by h34rt1lly
Summary: Written for The Successor Challenge (Aug 2015) - "What comes after?" After all is said and done and Ultimecia is gone, what is left for Seifer? Will he ever be able to piece together the shattered fragments of his mind and find some semblance of normalcy again? Separated into four parts, Aftermath offers insight into Seifer's life, post-time compression.
1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

 _Written for The Successor challenge: thesuccessorchallenge[dot]tumblr[dot]com. The challenge revolves around the theme of: '_ _What comes after?'_

 _My submission, Aftermath, explores Seifer's attempts at picking up the pieces of his broken life, from immediately after time compression is lifted, to years ahead. Technically, as Emerald-Latias has informed me, my story does not follow the prompt of the challenge, as it fills in the gap between the playable game and the scene in the end credits of the trio in Balamb. It was supposed to have begun **after** that scene. Just keep that in mind as you read. Sorry about that!_

 _The story is essentially a long one-shot, but is split into four separate parts: the first part is the shortest and works as more of a prologue. The second focuses solely on the trial and is the longest part. The third and fourth parts are all post-trial._

 _Many thanks to Arenoptara, my good friend, for beta-reading this in its entirety. She challenges me to push myself to new heights and achieve new writing goals. Without her, I wouldn't be where I'm at now. My writing wouldn't be where it's at now._

 ** _Final Fantasy VIII_** _**does not belong to me, Square has that right. Anything you recognize, I do not own.**_

* * *

 **After.**

He ached.

His bones ached, his mind ached, his _heart_ ached. It was an uncomfortable and entirely unfamiliar feeling, and as he shifted on the hard, sun-baked desert floor, he found that he ached for something that he now knew was impossible to achieve.

His dream.

He'd had a plan and everything was supposed to work out perfectly. Like the teenager that he was, he had been filled with naivety and believed that he had all of the trump cards in his hand. How wrong he'd been.

Edea...No, Ultimecia.

He would have followed her anywhere, done _anything_ that she had asked. The fact of the matter was that he did exactly that. Willingly or not, it didn't matter in the end. Because of that decision, he'd lost his entire life. The only home he'd ever known would never allow him back into their walls. The only friends he'd ever had would all stare at him with distrust and hatred. To be honest, he couldn't blame them. After all, he'd tried to kill each and every one of them on more than one occasion.

What did he have left now? He was stuck in the middle of the desert, with nothing but his tattered grey trenchcoat and Hyperion. That was it.

Centra. What an appropriate place to spit him back out into reality.

With a grunt, Seifer Almasy sat up and raised his right leg, bracing his arm on his knee. His shrewd, vivid turquoise eyes scanned the barren wasteland that surrounded him—a mirror image of the way he now felt inside. He could see the waves of stifling, oppressive heat hovering above the ground. Part of him wanted to remove his coat because he was practically drowning in his own sweat. However, a massive sunburn wasn't something he wanted to experience, so for now, he figured he'd just suffer through it. He'd suffered through a lot of things so far, after all.

He stood and his stiff joints groaned in protest. How long had he been lying there, on the desert floor, in the middle of nowhere? Speaking of the middle of nowhere...where exactly in the desert was he?

Thank Hyne that Garden required every cadet to attend survival training. As much as he didn't want to think about the place right now, he begrudgingly admitted that some of their lessons came in handy from time to time.

Or all of the time. Not that he was about to admit that.

Placing a hand on his brow to block out the sun's blinding rays, he swept his gaze from left to right, trying to find a landmark that would allow him to pinpoint his location. Off in the far, _far_ distance, he could see the edge of the beach, where the ground transitioned from rocky desert to the soft, fine grains of sand. Question was, which beach? The entire continent was peppered with small beaches and it wouldn't do him any good to get to one if there was nothing nearby.

 _Then again, Centra's a fuckin' wasteland. I might as well give it a shot. Maybe I'll get lucky and the orphanage will be there._

With newfound determination, he placed one foot in front of the other, and started walking.

Minutes passed, and then hours, and Seifer found himself questioning whether this was really the best idea. For the first time in a long time, he was left with no one else's company but his own, and he found his thoughts wandering. Inevitably, they landed on the events of the past few months.

Did he regret the choices that he'd made? If he had to be perfectly honest, there were some that were absolutely idiotic decisions— _that_ he could admit. But the driving force behind those decisions were not. If he went back to the start of it all, would he still do the same things? In exactly the same way? He found that...he didn't know the answers to those questions, and he wasn't sure that he _wanted_ to find them either.

After trying to ignore the heat for hours, he licked his dry, chapped lips and finally shrugged out of his coat. He was starting to feel lightheaded and a headache was forming, which was a sure sign of the beginnings of heat stroke. With his rapid panting, he thought he sounded a bit like a dog.

What a sight. Fallen ex-Sorceress's Knight, panting like the lap dog that Squall had said he was.

It was disgusting.

When Seifer felt like he was ready to give up and turn around, thinking that he'd have better luck in the other direction, he saw the tip of the orphanage's roof in the far distance. A wave of relief swept over him and he wanted to kneel and kiss the ground, praising Hyne until the end of his days. Instead, with a sudden burst of energy, he sprinted the rest of the way over the hill and to the Cape of Good Hope.

Again, what an appropriate name.

The cracked desert floor gave way to broken flagstones and he stepped onto the orphanage's overgrown front "porch". Frankly, he'd seen more welcoming sights. Weeds had overtaken the walkway, and the once-grand columns that had lined the path had since toppled over, leaving crumbled piles of debris in their wake. Granted, his memories of the place were pretty distorted: one, because of the use of guardian forces, and two, because of the absolute shit storm his mind had become after Ultimecia had probed around in it.

Trying to ignore that line of thought, he continued walking up the path to the front door that hung askew on its hinges. He'd been incredibly lucky he'd been dropped so close to shelter. At this point, he'd take whatever he could get without complaint.

The wooden door creaked when he pushed it open, much like his joints had earlier, and he stepped over the threshold into the main room. Ruined wooden crates lay throughout the space, broken and destroyed. There was trash strewn about, lining the stone floors. The once-identical door against the far wall that led to the beach had since fallen apart, and the exit now gaped wide open. A slight breeze flowed into the room and he glanced to his left, noticing that the door that led to the bedroom was still intact.

With quiet footsteps, he made his way over to it, lifting his tired feet to climb the two steps that preceded the door. The sight that greeted him past the threshold surprised him, for the bedroom was in nearly pristine condition. There was a fine layer of dust that had settled over all of the surfaces, but the bed was still in one piece, the quilt atop it in decent condition. The wooden desk that Edea had always sat at still remained in the far corner, against the window that overlooked the beach. She had liked to supervise them when they frolicked on the sand, and she'd sat in that very chair when the heat had been too much for her to stand outside with them.

Seifer trailed over to the desk, running his fingers along the back of the chair, only to end up grasping the backrest so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Aimlessly, he stared out the window at the rolling ocean waves, his expression blank.

When he'd had enough of the view, he turned back around and gazed longingly at the bed. Exhaustion overtook him then, and he trudged back over to the inviting piece of furniture, kicking off his shoes along the way. He collapsed onto it, bouncing slightly as the mattress adjusted to the sudden weight that it hadn't needed to support in years. After all, a five-year-old weighed considerably less than a muscular eighteen-year-old, and it hadn't been used in nearly a decade, if not more.

As his eyes slowly shut, he found that his mind refused to be at ease.

 _What am I even doing here? It's not like the orphanage was ever really 'home' anyway. Why the hell did I even get sent back? What the hell is the_ point _of all this?!_

An irritated grunt left his lips as he rolled over to face the other side, and the dust rising from the pillow tickled his nose. For the next half hour, he tossed and turned in discomfort, before the dark embrace of sleep finally claimed him.

* * *

 **Day two.**

He sank down onto the beach and the fine grains of sand shifted to accommodate his weight. The orphanage was abandoned, much like he'd expected it would be. That hope was also part of the reason he'd been so glad to see it in the distance, when he'd been trekking through the desert. He needed time to process, to think, to learn how to _feel_ again.

For the past few months of his life, he'd been on auto-pilot. He hadn't needed to consider the consequences of his actions, because frankly, he hadn't cared. She'd removed the part of him that would've felt guilt at the lives he'd destroyed, at the lives he'd ended. Now...now that she was _gone_...what was left? What was left of his mind? Of his self? _Was_ there anything left?

He stretched his legs out and the edge of the waves lapped at his heels—almost as if the ocean was calling for him to let go, to just let the water carry him away where no one would ever find him. After all, _she_ was gone. Why did he need to stay?

As he sat there, he stared at the foam-tipped, cerulean waves in abject interest. They ebbed and flowed, following the never-ending call of nature. In fact, they reminded him of himself. The waves had no mind of their own, no direction of their own. They had no say in their movements; they simply followed what the moon's gravitational pull dictated they do. The push and pull, the back and forth motion...it would repeat until the end of the time.

He envied them, and was the first to admit how pathetic that envy was. He was jealous of something that was inanimate, that had no brain of its own. Maybe...it wasn't that he was envious of the waves themselves. More so the fact that they had a clear agenda, a clear purpose for being on this planet. Regardless of how many years passed by, how many dictators rose to power and subsequently fell...Regardless of what sorceress was in power or not in power, the waves would continue to exist.

He couldn't say the same for himself.

The waves needed the moon. Needed it for their movement, their existence...needed it to create the beautiful image that nature provided in the middle of the night, when the sky was as black as the void, and the only reflection came from the pale, waxen glow up above.

He needed his sorceress like the waves needed the moon. And now...now he had no sorceress. He had no purpose, no one to guide him. He was just a lost little boy all over again, with more failures under his belt than he could count, and a cowardly excuse for still existing. Ultimecia was gone and thus, so too should he be wiped from the face of the planet. Yet somehow, he still lingered.

His gaze fell to the ocean again and he contemplated laying down in the shallow waves, allowing them to carry him away as he'd fleetingly thought only moments before.

But he couldn't do it. He was a coward. He knew that he had nothing left to live for and as a result, should get just it over with. _Just leave this fucked up and broken world behind._

But he...he _wanted_ to live. He, Seifer Almasy, was a survivor. He always had been. He wouldn't—couldn't—just lay down and accept his fate, just let it all go. He _couldn't_.

 _That is why you have always been_ weak _, my knight . . ._

At the sound of her voice, he squeezed his eyes shut and ground his palm into his eye socket; the harsh granules that had stuck into his skin now scratched against his closed eyelid and he welcomed the pain. He embraced the emptiness in his mind, while at the same time, hating the agonizing sense of abandonment that it also left. He mourned the absence of the very being that he had lived for the past six months. The being, the _woman_ , that had embodied all of his childhood dreams and desires. He clung to the fading echoes of her voice and toppled over onto the sand, curling up on his side.

His chest ached and he marveled at the feeling. He'd almost forgotten what _emotion_ felt like. He let it wash over him, take him away from the inside out, since he couldn't bring himself to let the ocean do that.

 _Where the fuck do I go now?_

* * *

 **Day three.**

He'd transitioned from crippling misery to feeling the acute sting of sheer fury and hatred. He'd never been one to do things half-assed, so apparently, having his emotions rush back to him, making him human and whole again, also fell into that category.

He paced back and forth on the beach, nearly pulling all of his hair out as he fought to contain the roiling rage within him. Shrugging out of his frayed trench coat, he tossed it aside. With irate, jerky movements, he unzipped his vest and threw that over his shoulder as well. After attempting to stalk through the viscous sand in his boots, frustrated, he reached down and yanked them off. Shirtless and barefoot, he continued to trek from one side to the other, muttering to himself.

When Ultimecia didn't answer him, even in his mind, he threw his hands up into the air and faced the ocean. In a hoarse voice, he shouted, "WHAT NOW, HUH?!"

Angry, rapid footsteps carried him to the other side of the beach once more. Again, he faced the waves. "What the _hell_ am I supposed to do now?! You just...go off and fuckin' _die,_ and _I'm_ still here, damn it!"

He fell to his knees in the sand, his hands pounding against his bare chest. "Where the _hell_ do I go without you?! What the _hell_ do I do now?!"

"Fuck you, you crazy whore! Don't leave me here!"

. . .

"Hyne-damn it! Have the fuckin' decency to come back for me! I'm your fuckin' _knight_ —you can't just _leave_ me!"

. . .

"ARGH!"

. . .

After nearly two hours of shouting at nothing and no one in particular, Seifer collapsed onto his back in the sand, drained. Because of his outburst, his blood was pounding through his veins with every thundering heartbeat.

When he'd opened his eyes at sunrise, nearly four hours before, he'd realized that he was well and truly alone. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been alone. When he was a kid, he'd had everyone at the orphanage. When he'd arrived at Garden, he'd met Fujin and Raijin shortly after and they'd been inseparable since. Then, he'd had Edea, whose presence in his mind had transitioned into Ultimecia.

Ultimecia had ensured that he would never be without her. She'd forced him to rely on her existence, her presence, her aura. Without her, he was like a drug addict going through severe withdrawals.

And that pissed him off. If he'd wanted to go through withdrawals, he would've at least picked a drug worth doing. A sorceress mind-fuck hadn't been at the top of his list.

The scars she'd left him with, both mental and physical, ached and throbbed. He couldn't escape the pain. _She_ could, and she'd done exactly that by ceasing to exist. It was almost as if she was punishing him for his failure to stop Squall, and would remain in this world by living on as his torture. _Only_ for his torture.

At that thought, his anger surged up again and he shot to his feet, his normally handsome face twisted and marred by the force of his rage.

Until the sun began to sink below the horizon, he shouted and roared at anything and everything.

No one responded.

* * *

 **Two weeks later.**

Seifer was sick and tired of fishing. He was absolutely horrible at it and every time he waded into the shallow depths of the ocean, the rolled-up cuffs of his pants still got soaked and it annoyed him to no end. Still, fish tasted significantly better than the wildlife on Centra, so suffer through it he would. When an hour had gone by and he still hadn't had any luck, he threw the rod down in frustration and hiked back up the beach to the orphanage.

Two weeks had passed and he hadn't seen a single soul. After he'd gone through the various stages of grief, he'd settled on an eerily empty state of mind. He tried to think of nothing, focus on nothing, except surviving. He'd started talking to himself just to fill the endless silence. It was either that, or he heard the long lost echoes of Ultimecia's whispers on the edges of his mind. Most of the time, he did it to remind himself that he wasn't crazy.

"Hyne-damned fish. Why do they have to be stubborn as fuck, huh?" he muttered to himself as he slammed the door of the makeshift cabinet shut.

 _You were rather stubborn as well, my errant knight . . ._

Her voice floated across his mind and he smacked the side of his head with his palm. _I'm_ not _crazy._

A few days after he'd arrived, he built the cabinet to store all of the fish he'd caught—though there hadn't been many—or cooked meat from game that he'd hunted down. Grabbing a steel pot he'd found tossed in the corner of the main room, he trekked back outside onto the orphanage's patio, to the pile of logs in the center.

With one of his few remaining fire spells, he sparked the logs and stomped down to the water's edge, filling the pot nearly to the brim. When he returned, he placed the pot on the wire rack that rested above the flames. Plopping down onto the stone patio's sand-covered surface, he fell backwards and laid against the hard ground, staring up at the sky.

After watching a few of the wispy clouds float by, he mumbled to himself, "What if no one even tries to find you? You just gonna live your whole worthless life here, in the ruins of this fuckin' place?"

 _Worthless . . . yes. Because you failed me,_ this _is what you've become . . ._

Ignoring the voice in his head, he scoffed at himself before continuing, "I mean, it's not like anyone gives a shit about you anyway. Especially not now. Who the fuck is gonna come lookin' for _you_?"

Out of nowhere, a deep, rumbling voice that was most definitely not his own, piped up. "How about your posse, ya know?"

Seifer shot upright and scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over himself a couple of times as he fought to stand up. He whirled around to face the orphanage, his eyes frantic as he yelled, "What the fuck?!"

Raijin stood in the open doorway, casually waving at Seifer with a grin on his face. All of a sudden, his smile faltered as his knees buckled and he fell onto the patio, revealing an annoyed Fujin who was standing behind him.

"IN THE WAY."

"Sorry, ya know?! I was just gettin' his attention!" Raijin cried out as he crawled to the side, over to a small patch of grass beside the doorway.

At that, Fujin glanced up and when she saw Seifer, her mouth fell open. Her single, crimson eye widened as she walked toward him, her steps hesitant.

"SEIFER?" she whispered.

"This...no. This is _not_ real. It's not really happening. I'm finally going fucking crazy. Oh Hyne…" Seifer muttered to himself as he started pacing in circles around the fire.

"NO. NOT CRAZY. ALIVE!" Fujin said as a smile spread across her face. She tried to reach out to him, only to have Seifer back away.

"Don't touch me! Don't you fuckin' touch me! You're not real, you're not real...shit," he trailed off and started mumbling under his breath, too quiet for Fujin to hear. His pacing continued and he periodically ran his hands through his blond hair, which was now grungy and caked through with dust and dirt.

"SEIFER…" Fujin started to say as Raijin returned to his feet and interrupted her.

"Seifer, it's really us, ya know? We came to find ya," the darker male tried to explain, his hands open as he pleaded with his friend.

 _They are but a figment of your imagination . . . an illusion that is a reflection of your hopes . . ._

"How the hell do I know you two are real? And why would you bother to come and find me anyway? Pretty sure everyone hates me by now," Seifer spat.

"NEVER."

"Yeah, we could never _hate_ you. You just...you weren't yourself, ya know? We couldn't see you that way," Raijin said quietly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Fujin took a hesitant step forward again and this time, Seifer didn't back away. He just stood there, watching her approach with his eyebrows low over his bright eyes.

"REAL," she tried to reassure him as she got closer.

With every step Fujin took that lessened the space between them, the more tense Seifer got. By the time she stood in front of him, his shoulders were hunched and he was clenching his fists so tightly that his fingernails were leaving bright red crescent marks in his palms. Slowly, Fujin reached out and lightly brushed her fingers along his forearm to gauge his reaction. When he still didn't move, she encircled him with her arms, wrapping them around his back as she laid her head on his chest. Her familiar scent of the salty ocean, mixed with the sharp smell of metal and a hint of lavender tickled his nose, and the realization that he wasn't hallucinating slammed into him.

"Holy shit," he mumbled as he lifted his arms and enveloped Fujin in a hug: the first that he'd given her since they were kids.

Moisture pooled in her eye and she squeezed it shut as she simultaneously tightened her arms around him. Raijin tsked at them and ran over, draping his long arms around them both. When he too squeezed as tightly as he could, Fujin laughed softly, and Seifer chuckled at his friend's never-ending enthusiasm.

"ALIVE," Fujin repeated in a quiet voice that was filled with relief.

"Yeah, I'm alive. Gonna take more than a crazy bitch sorceress and a mind fuck to take me down," Seifer joked.

"Damn straight, ya know?!" Raijin yelled as he let his friends go and pumped his fist into the air.

Seifer's expression sobered and he looked up at Raijin. "How did you guys...how did you know I'd be here?"

His friend shrugged and nonchalantly responded, "We didn't. Been lookin' for ya for nearly two weeks now. We started in Balamb, headed over to Deling...we even checked FH, ya know?"

Fujin nodded firmly and stated, "HERE."

Raijin elaborated on her thought and explained, "After FH, we went down to Winhill thinkin', it'd be some shitty luck if you got thrown out around there! But you weren't there either. Squall and them returned to Garden and said that Ultimecia's Castle had been right above the old orphanage you all were at. Fuj figured it wouldn't hurt to try here."

A smile teased at the corners of Fujin's lips and she echoed her sentiment from earlier, holding Seifer's gaze. "HERE."

They'd come for him. He knew they'd always come for him.

* * *

 **A/N:** _The second part will go live Saturday, August 8th._


	2. Part II

**Author's Note:**

 _Part two consists of Seifer's trial. It's significantly longer than the first part and while I know trials can be…heh, trying...I tried to interject a lot of Seifer's flashbacks and inner monologue to offer insight into some of the events of the game. Fair warning, this part is very dialogue heavy._

 _Also, the trial doesn't follow the United States' system to a tee. I've taken some personal experience and intermingled it with some other sources. For the most part, it's kind of creative liberty._

 _Hope you guys enjoy!_

* * *

 **One month later.**

The trial was set to start in about an hour.

Massive wooden doors, lined with elaborate carvings marked the entrance to the room that would change Seifer's fate. People that he'd never seen before in his life milled about inside, participating in casual conversations with each other—as if their decisions didn't affect the outcome of another person's very existence.

Seifer paced across the tiled hallway just outside of the courtroom, his palms practically dripping with sweat. His throat felt constricted, tight. It was almost like he was fighting for each breath. When it felt like he was going to explode from the sheer amount of anxiety held within him, he let out a loud groan and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared into the courtroom.

A long, tense sigh left him and he ran his hands through his hair, his fingers leaving deep grooves in the fine, blond strands. It was then that a petite, gentle hand reached out to rest on his forearm and he turned to his left, his eyebrows low over his cerulean eyes.

"Everything will work out, Seifer. You'll see," Matron encouraged softly.

Seifer quickly broke eye contact with her, his gaze falling to the floor. Though her appearance was back to normal and she was wearing her gray floor-length dress, her ebony hair cascading down her back instead of hidden underneath a multi-colored headdress, he found that he couldn't look into her verdant eyes for too long.

Every time he did, they transformed into irises of molten gold and memories he didn't want to relive just yet, flashed through his mind unbidden.

She let her hand drop—as if she understood why he couldn't stand to be touched by her—and took a step back. In a quiet voice, she hesitantly informed him, "Cid and the others should be here soon. They'll all be testifying on your behalf."

He shook his head and said, "Not to sound ungrateful or whatever, but why are they even testifying for me?"

Edea tilted her head and her eyes shifted from his face to stare over his shoulder. When she responded, her voice was still quiet. "They believe, with good reason, that you _were_ controlled by Ultimecia. It wasn't you underneath that mask, Seifer. It never was. My recollection of the time that I was possessed coincided with _your_ experience, and I believe that helped to convince them of your innocence."

Seifer nodded, the motion sharp and concise. When he didn't say anything in response, Matron sighed under her breath and drifted over to a bench along the opposite wall, sinking down onto it before folding her hands in her lap.

With his jaw tightly clenched, he focused his stare intently on the end of the hallway. When Cid and the rest of the gaggle of kids showed, they'd come from that side and he'd be able to see them approaching. He had trouble with leaving his back exposed nowadays—made him jumpy.

About fifteen minutes later, he could see Cid's portly frame heading towards them, seven silhouettes lined up behind him. When the group neared, he saw that the entire orphanage gang plus Xu and Rinoa had come.

All of them but Rinoa and Irvine wore their SeeD uniforms. The ebony regalia was pristine, the fabric pressed perfectly into stiff sheets. The golden detailing on the shoulders and lapels glistened every time the overhead fluorescent lighting reflected off of the material. Of course, it was paired with the classic tie clip that held the Balamb logo—as if those in the courtroom had no idea who they were.

Fujin and Raijin were also supposed to show to testify, but they hadn't arrived yet.

 _They better show,_ he thought bitterly. To be fair, they didn't deserve his anger, but he didn't expect the six "heroes" to have many good things to say about him, so he needed as many friends behind him as he could get.

The group came to a stop just in front of the doors and Cid nodded at Seifer before ambling over to sit down next to his wife. She placed her hand in his and they sat there, heads close together, Cid's fingers curling around Edea's. Seifer nearly rolled his eyes at the display of affection but then his gaze flitted over to Squall and Rinoa.

Rinoa was standing slightly behind Squall, most of her body hidden from Seifer's view. The only thing he could see at the moment were her eyes as she peeked over Squall's shoulder at him. Normally, they were kind and expressive. At the moment, they were darting around the room, only coming to focus on Seifer every few seconds but never holding his gaze. Squall was, naturally, in a defensive position, his arm extended protectively in front of his sorceress.

 _Yeah, you're fuckin' welcome for bringin' you two together._

Zell was glaring at him, which was to be expected. Before shit hit the fan, he'd never been nice to the martial artist so he was the one he least expected to hear good things about himself from. Irvine and Selphie looked pretty indifferent to the happenings of the moment, though every time Selphie moved, Irvine would ensure that he remained between the petite brunette and Seifer.

It was Quistis that surprised Seifer the most. She was standing in the middle of the hallway with her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes trained on Seifer. When he lifted his turquoise eyes to meet her crystalline ones, instead of looking away like he'd expected her to, she held his gaze intently. As the seconds passed, his irritation at his former instructor rose and he tilted his chin at her, daring her to say something.

All she did was shake her head at him and that was when she broke eye contact, wandering over to stand in front of Edea and Cid.

A feeling akin to disappointment coursed through him at her lack of reaction. "Tch," he expressed under his breath.

Before he knew it, it was time for the trial to begin and the court clerk materialized in the doorway, waving the group inside before turning and disappearing into the depths of the room. They all traipsed after her into the stuffy, cramped space that was packed to the brim with garish decorations.

Wood paneling lined the walls, but it wasn't the cheap kind you'd find in dive bars. No, it was the kind that you'd find in ancient libraries filled with extensive knowledge that one could lose themselves in—the kind that lined Balamb Garden's library, now that Seifer thought about it. Most people would think the choice of wall coverings were tasteful but Seifer just found it extremely pretentious. Plus, it actually smelled like an old library. The stale scent of pressed vellum sheets that had been untouched for centuries, wafted throughout the room, and he scrunched his nose up in distaste.

Everyone from Garden filled the seats behind the cherry-wood railing that was lacquered so heavily, it looked like he could style his hair with the excess shine just by running his hand along the surface.

Seifer, on the other hand, was directed to the table that lay on the other side of the railing. There was no one else on that side of the fence. No attorneys, no representatives from Balamb Garden... _just_ Seifer.

He lowered himself into one of the two chairs behind the table, shifting uncomfortably once he'd settled in. Another long, deep sigh left him at the knowledge that the rest of this day wasn't likely to be enjoyable.

Once everyone had shuffled into the room and taken their respective seats, the judge lowered his gavel and spoke.

"Today marks the trial of Seifer Almasy, Sorceress' Knight to Sorceress Edea and later on, Sorceress Ultimecia. Mr. Almasy will be representing himself, and will be providing his own statement at the end. Mr. William Holden of Galbadia Garden, and Mr. Cliff Edmont of Trabia Garden will be representing the Tri-Garden Council. All witnesses that are called to the stand will be testifying on Mr. Almasy's behalf.

"May I remind all parties involved to attempt to remain as unprejudiced as possible. Please remember that all of your questions for the witnesses should have the intent of addressing the incredibly long list of unanswered questions from the war, specifically concerning Mr. Almasy's involvement."

He shuffled some papers around on his desk before continuing. "The charges in question are as follows: disobeying a commanding officer's direct orders, threatening a political figure, taking hostages, aggravated assault, assault with a dangerous weapon, desertion, initiating a war of aggression, mistreating prisoners of war, willful killing, settlement of occupied territory—in this case, Galbadia Garden, the town of Balamb, and many others."

The judge paused and gestured to Seifer. "Now Mr. Almasy, please stand before the court and inform us of how you would like to plead."

Seifer rose to his feet and adjusted his suit jacket before folding his arms in front of him. In a firm voice, he called out, "I plead 'not guilty'."

At Seifer's announcement, the two men who were seated on the other side of the room leaned over and began to whisper between themselves, and Seifer narrowed his eyes at them.

When he turned back to the judge, the older man nodded and replied, "Very well. Then let us begin."

* * *

"Please state your name for the court's records."

A tall, lanky man who looked to be in his early fifties rose from his seat on the side of the courtroom. "My name is Cliff Edmont. I am Trabia Garden's legal representative."

"Thank you, Mr. Edmont. Please begin your questioning," the clerk prompted.

After descending to the main area, he stated, "Trabia Garden would like to call SeeD Quistis Trepe to the stand."

Seifer raised his eyebrows in surprise as he looked over his shoulder at his former instructor. _This should be interesting._

Quistis, ever the proper one, glided gracefully over to the seat below and to the side of the judge. After brushing her skirt underneath her, she sat, her posture rigid as she turned to face Trabia's representative.

"Please state your name for the court, Miss Trepe," the clerk requested.

In a firm, clear voice, she called out, "Quistis Trepe, SeeD rank A, from Balamb Garden."

The judge gestured to Mr. Edmont, who stepped forward and met Quistis' gaze. "Miss Trepe, you were—"

Quistis interrupted the man and said, "I would prefer it if you referred to me by my title, Mr. Edmont."

Mr. Edmont froze, his mouth falling open in disbelief as he stared at Quistis. Seifer covered his mouth to hide the smirk that he couldn't stop from spreading across his face. Quistis had always been good at talking down to people, and those who knew her well could tell by her expression and tone of voice when it was intentional.

This time, it had definitely been intentional.

The representative turned towards the judge, as if hoping for a reprimand but the judge only gestured to Quistis, raising his eyebrows at Mr. Edmont.

"I-Forgive me, SeeD Trepe. Ahem, as I was going to say, you were Mr. Almasy's former instructor at Balamb Garden, correct?"

"That is correct. I taught him for two consecutive years."

"And how would you say his behavior in class was?"

Quistis glanced over at Seifer and met his eyes briefly, before looking back at Mr. Edmont. "Seifer was— _is_ —gifted, but he had a terrible habit of disrupting the class. He rarely ever paid attention."

"How were his grades?"

She narrowed her eyes at the representative before commenting, "I fail to see how that matters but if you really wish to know, his grades were...average. He passed every single SeeD exam on paper, with decent marks."

"On paper?"

"Yes, on paper. I'm sure Trabia Garden operates the same way. After the written exam, there is a field exam."

"And how many times did Mr. Almasy attempt the field exam?"

She hesitated before answering. "Three."

"And he failed _every_ time?"

Quistis' pale eyes flitted over to meet Seifer's again and when she turned back to Edmont, she mumbled, "Yes."

At that, Seifer cringed. It was one thing for him to struggle with his failures, but it was another thing for everyone in the room to hear how he'd failed, time and time again, at one of the only things he'd ever truly wanted. To hear it come from _Trepe_ herself, with disappointment easily discernible in her tone...that was even harder.

"What were the reasons behind the decisions to fail him?"

Her gaze dropped to her lap for a moment before she raised her eyes to meet Mr. Edmont's once more. "I can't speak for the entire staff...only my own reasons."

"Very well then. Please, share your reasons with the court."

Quistis took a moment to compile her thoughts and finally responded. "Seifer...has always had problems following orders. If someone in a position of authority tells him to do something, he nearly always does the opposite. That's usually the reason behind his failed exams. Whether it's refusing to retreat, like in the last exam, or unnecessarily endangering his team, or what have you, Seifer simply does not follow orders well."

Seifer leaned back in his chair, his lip curled up in a sneer at Quistis' statement. He'd _helped_ the mission along during the field exam. If it weren't for him, they would've never found out why Galbadia was trying to revive communications.

 _I don't follow orders that are stupid as fuck,_ he thought bitterly.

"I see. And it was his lack of respect for authority that brought Mr. Almasy to the TV station in Timber, is that correct?"

"...Yes, that is correct."

The representative gestured for Quistis to continue. "Explain that situation to us, please."

"Immediately after the graduation ball, Garden received a request for aid from the Forest Owls. Squall Leonhart, our current Commander, as well as Zell Dincht and Selphie Tilmitt, were sent out to Timber in response to the request. When Seifer found out, he disobeyed orders and broke out of the disciplinary room to rush after the team. I was sent to retrieve him."

"Was Mr. Almasy ordered _not_ to follow them?" Mr. Edmont asked.

"Not _exactly_. But he was being detained at the time, and when a team of SeeDs are sent out, it's protocol that _only_ the team goes. Seifer could have put the three of them at risk by interrupting the mission, and that's why I was ordered to bring him back to Garden."

"I see. Now, when you compare his behavior from that day, to his behavior after the events at the Timber TV Station, would you say that things lined up?"

Quistis stared at Edmont intently as she replied, "Are you asking me whether or not I could tell the difference between Seifer before he saw Edea, and after?"

"That is exactly what I am asking, SeeD Trepe."

"Then yes, I could," she stated with a firm nod.

"Elaborate, if you would."

Quistis inhaled deeply and fixated her gaze on the wooden railing in front of her. She took a few seconds to compose herself and finally, looked back up at Edmont when she was ready to respond. "Seifer was brash, foolish, impulsive, but he never did things for the sake of hurting people. In fact, it was quite the opposite. When he, Squall, and Zell were on the field exam in Dollet, Seifer informed us that he made the call he did, in order to find out what Galbadia's forces were doing at the communication tower. That action, in and of itself, provides proof that he had the intent to help the Dolletian forces, as well as fulfill the mission on Garden's behalf. While the mission wasn't technically to 'solve the mystery', he saw it as an extension of his duty as a future member of SeeD.

"After he joined Edea, the intent behind his decisions were completely different. Rather than help people, his sole purpose in life was to now help his sorceress. That included killing people on demand, torturing people for information; doing things that, yes, he may have done otherwise as a SeeD, but with _malice_. Not with the intent of furthering the greater good."

Edmont stroked his chin and pressed, "What in particular convinced you that he was not the same man? That he was indeed being controlled by Ultimecia?"

Quistis let out a sharp exhale and looked away, interlacing her fingers and resting her hands on the railing. She looked back at Edmont and replied, "I would have to say that the defining moment for me, was when we caught up to him in Lunatic Pandora."

"Why _that_ event in particular?"

"Because...when we spoke to him before we fought him for the last time, he...his eyes were different. They were wild; lit from within by a fire that was fueled by something else entirely. Not his previous ambition to join SeeD and change the world, nor was it his dedication to be the best at everything he did. Instead, it was something cruel, twisted. He no longer wanted to just rough us up for the thrill of the fight. He wanted to _kill_ us, because it was what Ultimecia wanted—what she _told_ him to do.

"When he cast aside his friends, Fujin and Raijin, and when he threw Rinoa to Adel's feet like she was nothing more than the means to an end...that was when I knew he was no longer the Seifer we had known."

The room fell silent and Edmont gazed at Quistis for a few seconds, before he quietly said, "I see. Thank you, SeeD Trepe. That is all for now."

* * *

"Please state your name for the court's records."

"I am William Holden, Galbadia Garden's legal representative."

William Holden of Galbadia was nearly the exact opposite of Cliff Edmont. Where Mr. Edmont was tall, wiry in frame, and had little to no muscle mass, Mr. Holden was broad-shouldered, stocky, with deep, ebony locks of hair that were slicked back from his face. He was also younger than Mr. Edmont, perhaps only in his late thirties.

In fact, Seifer thought he looked remarkably like Rinoa's dad, Caraway.

"Mr. Holden. Proceed," the judge instructed.

"Galbadia Garden would like to call SeeD Zell Dincht to the stand," Mr. Holden stated in a rough voice. Even his tone was similar to General Caraway's, in the sense that you could tell neither of the two men put up with any kind of excuses.

Seifer rolled his eyes as Zell ambled past him on his way to the same seat that Quistis had occupied a few minutes before. _Great, if Chicken-wuss is getting on the stand, I'm screwed._

Zell sat down and in direct contrast to Quistis' cool demeanor, he constantly fidgeted, his leg visibly bouncing up and down.

"Please state your name for the court," the clerk requested again.

"U-Uh, my name is Zell. Zell Dincht. I'm also a rank A SeeD from Balamb. Balamb Garden, I mean."

"Mr. Dincht—or would you prefer that I call you SeeD Dincht, as SeeD Trepe has requested?" Mr. Holden asked.

"Hell yeah! Sorry, I mean uh, yeah, SeeD Dincht sounds great!"

Holden raised an eyebrow at Zell's response before saying, "Alright _SeeD_ Dincht. Please tell us your version of the events at Timber TV Station."

"Well we were heading there anyway because we found out that President Deling was gonna make a broadcast, right? When we were about to head inside, the broadcast started and we saw everything go down. After Seifer snagged the President, Quistis—I mean SeeD Trepe—requested our help, so we hurried inside."

"And what was Mr. Almasy doing when you arrived inside?"

"He was holding President Deling by the throat, pretty much."

"At this point, Sorceress Edea had yet to make an appearance, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right. We tried to talk Seifer into letting the President go, but he uh...he didn't, and then I...I accidentally let slip that we were from Garden."

"Accidentally? Ah yes, this was your first mission as an official SeeD, correct?"

Zell's gaze dropped to his lap and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, that's right."

"Please. Continue."

"Right so, Seifer started backing out of the room, off-camera, and by the time we went into the next room, the President had already run off and Seifer was standing with Matron. Er, Sorceress Edea."

"You said that Mr. Almasy was standing _beside_ the Sorceress?"

Zell leaned forward, bracing himself on his knees. "Yeah."

Inwardly, Seifer groaned. From the way Zell was recounting the event, it didn't exactly help his case. Granted, the first encounter with Edea had been _somewhat_ voluntary. When she'd spoken to him, her voice had sounded kind of familiar, but because he couldn't see her face at the time, he hadn't been able to pinpoint where he recognized it from. A big part of him was curious, and _something_ had latched onto his curiosity, edging him forward. Next thing he knew, he'd been standing at her side and they'd left together.

Holden continued. "Interesting. At this point, it was the first time he'd seen Sorceress Edea since he was a child, correct?"

"Uh, I think so."

"Did he recognize her?" Holden pressed.

"Nah, I don't think so. She had her red mask or whatever on."

"Describe the scene, please."

Zell sighed and leaned back again, crossing his leg over his other knee. "So like, the room was all purple and hazy. When we walked in, Seifer was standing at the top of the staircase, waving his gunblade in the air. I dunno, he was saying bye or something like that. Then, Seifer and Matron disappeared into some portal thing and the purple haze went away."

"So if you had to describe Mr. Almasy's behavior, from when he first appeared on the broadcast, to when he disappeared with Sorceress Edea, would you say was acting normally?"

"You mean was he acting like _Seifer_? Yeah, I guess so. I mean he obviously hadn't thought through the entire thing and just ran to the station all willy-nilly. I don't think he expected to take the President hostage or to leave with Matron—ugh, Sorceress Edea. I think it just kinda happened."

"So he seemed in control of his own actions?"

At that last statement, Seifer mumbled, "Shit."

He just realized that the representative was trying to goad Zell into admitting that he _had_ been in control when he'd switched sides—that he'd done it willingly. Unfortunately, Zell likely hadn't caught on, and he walked right into Holden's trap.

Zell nodded fervently and said, "Yeah, I'd say so. I mean he waved and that seems like a cocky thing to do, which was _so_ Seifer."

Mr. Holden grinned before saying, "Thank you, Mr. Dincht. That's all for now."

Zell looked surprised that his time on the stand had gone by so quickly. When he stood and moved to head back towards his seat on the other side of the railing, he saw Squall with his head in his hands. Zell's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he glanced over at Quistis, who was shaking her head in disappointment. Zell mouthed, 'What?'

As he passed Seifer, the martial artist looked over and met his gaze. Seifer narrowed his eyes at Zell, thinking, _Thanks a whole-fucking lot, Chicken-wuss._

Zell, still incredibly confused, sank down into his chair beside Selphie. He leaned over Selphie and whispered, "Quisty, what'd I do wrong?!"

Seifer heard Quistis sigh deeply and the judge pounded his gavel again as he announced, "This court will adjourn for a short recess. We will reconvene in fifteen minutes."

The entire group from Balamb Garden rose and shuffled out of the courtroom, into the hallway. Once everyone had left, Seifer stood and grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket, ruffling them out of habit, like he always did with his trenchcoat. Silently, he followed the group and once he was out of the stuffy room with the pompous decorations, he moved farther down the hall, away from everyone else, and sat down on a bench against the wall.

He picked at his fingernails for a few minutes until the sound of footsteps reached his ears. His head shot up and he spotted Cid heading his way. Sighing, he greeted, "Hey."

"Hello, Seifer. How are you holding up?"

"Tch, it's _my_ fuckin' trial. How do you think I'm holding up?"

"Language, son," Cid reprimanded.

Seifer rolled his eyes and stood, facing his former Headmaster. "Whaddya want?"

"I just came over to discuss things with you. Zell's statement...well, let's just say he could've done better."

"Yeah, didn't anyone think to brief Chicken-wuss? I mean shit, they might as well throw me in D-District right now, after what he said."

Cid sighed and looked back over his shoulder at Zell. "He didn't realize he was doing anything wrong."

"Sure as shit doesn't help me," Seifer muttered.

"Seifer, things will work out—" _Why the fuck does everyone keep_ saying _that to me?_ "—They still have to get statements from everyone else. Perhaps the things that follow will overshadow Zell's...less than flattering depiction of you," Cid reassured.

Seifer crossed his arms over his chest and he could feel the stitching at his shoulders pulling at the effort. Whoever had picked this suit out for him had obviously forgotten to take measurements.

When he didn't respond to Cid's last comment, the Headmaster nodded and patted him briefly on the shoulder before he turned and walked back towards the rest of the group.

 _I'm gonna need a fuckin' miracle, now._

* * *

"Please state your name for the court's records."

"Squall Leonhart, Commander of Balamb Garden SeeD forces."

"Thank you, Commander Leonhart. Mr. Edmont, proceed."

Edmont stood and traipsed over to stand before Squall. The Commander's sharp, cold gaze swiveled around to focus on Edmont, and Seifer could swear he saw the older man shrivel up.

Edmont cleared his throat in an attempt to save face and started with, "C-Commander Leonhart. What is your relationship to Mr. Almasy?"

Squall crossed his arms over his chest, pulling the gilded lapels of his formal uniform tightly across his frame. "We don't have a 'relationship' of _any_ kind. Given that he isn't a SeeD, I'm not his commanding officer. I think it's safe to say that the best title for him would be my sparring partner."

The older man stroked his chin thoughtfully before asking, "Sparring partner?"

Squall nodded. "We were the only two gunblade specialists in Balamb Garden. We often trained together."

"I see. And...he was the one who gave you that scar, then?" Edmont inquired.

As if compelled to touch it from just the mention of it, Squall reached up and stroked his scar as Seifer mirrored the action from across the courtroom. When he realized what he was doing, Squall clenched his fingers and lowered his hand into his lap.

"Yes. That's correct," the young commander stated.

Edmont nodded and began to pace back and forth across the room. After a few silent moments, he quietly asked, "Would you say that he gave you any other scars?"

Squall furrowed his eyebrows, his expression wary. "What do you mean?"

"Mr. Almasy was in charge of your...interrogation...at D-District Prison, was he not?"

 _Fuck me. He's bringing that up already?_ Seifer thought.

Before the day of the trial had rolled around, Cid had spoken to Seifer about a long list of possible topics that the representatives might cover. Both he and Seifer believed that they would avoid speaking about D-District, especially Galbadia, because many of the interrogations and prisoners weren't documented. Political prisons were known to have rather harsh and generally frowned upon methods, and Galbadia didn't want any of that on record, where it could possibly tarnish their reputation.

As a matter of fact, the Galbadian representative looked rather unhappy that Trabia had brought that up. His eyebrows were tight over his dark eyes, as he sat on the side of the courtroom.

Squall sat there in silence, his chin tilted up slightly as he studied Edmont. A few seconds passed before he finally replied, "He was."

"And how would you say Mr. Almasy's methods were? Overly cruel? In-character for the personality you knew him to have?"

At that, Holden's face scrunched up in immediate anger and he shot to his feet, stretching his hand up into the air. "Your Honor, may I interject with a request?"

The judge nodded for Holden to clarify and the man continued. "As many of us are aware, D-District is specifically designated to hold certain _types_ of prisoners. Many of the policies and procedures at the prison are not documented, for a variety of reasons. If Commander Leonhart goes into detail about how Mr. Almasy interrogated him—which, at that point in time, Mr. Almasy was acting under Galbadian jurisdiction—it would expose a great deal of our country's classified information. I would prefer it if Mr. Edmont move on to his next point."

The judge nodded once more before addressing Mr. Edmont. "Commander Leonhart is instructed to answer only the last question you asked him, Mr. Edmont. Proceed with a little more consideration for your fellow representative, please?"

Mr. Edmont appeared thoroughly chagrined as he glanced back at Holden, before looking back at Squall. "Very well then. Commander Leonhart, would you say that Mr. Almasy's personality during the interrogation coincided with the impression of him that you had before he joined Sorceress Edea?"

Squall kept his arms crossed but tucked his chin into his chest as he thought about how to respond. When he lifted his head a moment later, he replied, "No. I wouldn't."

"Interesting. And why would that be?"

"Seifer is uncontrollable, unpredictable, and unreliable. At the best of times, he makes decisions on a whim, and I can't remember a single time he's actually followed orders exactly as they were given. When he interrogated me at D-District, he had a clear goal in mind throughout the entire session. He also, very obviously, had received orders to extract _one_ piece of information from me, that I refused to give.

"In his attempts to obtain that piece of information, he never once wavered from his goal. This does _not_ coincide with the Seifer I knew beforehand. Seifer would've openly defied any orders he received. The Seifer I knew before was, by no means, sadistic. His methods were a bit unconventional maybe, but he never crossed that line."

"So you're admitting that his tactics were inhumane?"

 _Are you fuckin' kidding me?_

Seifer glanced at the judge, who gestured to Edmont in a nonverbal form of encouragement, and Seifer called out, "Uh, I object!"

Edmont whirled around and glared at Seifer, as if he'd forgotten that Seifer was actually allowed to do such a thing. Seifer wiggled his eyebrows at the representative, who sneered before turning back to Squall with his hands clenched at his sides.

Squall narrowed his eyes and commented, "I didn't say that."

"You implied it though, did you not?" Edmont pressured.

Squall's lips tightened into a thin line and from between clenched teeth, he threatened, "I would advise you not to put words in my mouth."

Edmont cleared his throat and stated to the judge, "I believe I am finished questioning Commander Leonhart."

"Very well. Thank you, Commander," the judge stated.

Squall rose from the witness stand and trekked back to his seat, glaring at Edmont as he brushed past the older gentleman. When he approached Seifer's table, he glanced over at his former rival. The two men gazed at each other for a tense moment, their scars and expressions mirroring one another's, before Seifer nodded curtly. Squall returned the gesture and returned to his seat beside Rinoa.

In Squall's own atypical way, he'd risen to Seifer's defense. He'd managed to insinuate that Seifer hadn't been calling the shots at D-District, while keeping the specifics under wraps.

Seifer would never admit this to Squall's face but, he was impressed at how Squall had handled Edmont's questioning.

And...Seifer was grateful.

* * *

"Trabia Garden requests Rinoa Heartilly, daughter of General Fury Caraway, to the stand."

Rinoa stood and stepped around Squall's long legs, making her way to the witness stand with hesitant steps. She wore the same ivory dress that she'd had on the night of the SeeD graduation ball, and it made her seem younger and more innocent than Seifer knew she was by this point. After all, they'd all just fought in a grueling war. No one, not even Rinoa, could remain innocent after something like that.

He sure as hell didn't.

Then again, it's not like he'd been innocent before.

Once Rinoa had sat down, Edmont began with, "Ms. Heartilly, you were acquainted with Mr. Almasy before the war, correct?"

"I-I was, yes."

Seifer could see Rinoa fiddling with her fingers underneath the railing that surrounded the witness stand.

"What was the nature of your relationship with him?"

"We were...we were romantically involved before...everything happened."

"How serious would you say that you were?"

"Uh...I don't know, that's kind of up in the air. _I_ could say we were serious, and _he_ could say we weren't so...does that matter?" she rambled.

"No, I don't suppose that it does. Let me clarify: how _well_ would you say you knew Mr. Almasy before the war?"

"Oh, I see. Pretty well, I'd say. We dated for roughly three months or something like that, and it was thanks to him to that I got the contract with Garden for the Forest Owls, so."

"Can you describe his personality to the court?"

"Wow, how do you describe someone's personality? People have _so_ many different sides."

"Try to summarize, if you will, Miss Heartilly."

"O-Okay. He…" Rinoa trailed off and met Seifer's gaze over Edmont's shoulder. She shot a tentative smile his way and when he returned it, she continued on with newfound confidence. "Seifer was surprisingly romantic, and he was _so_ funny. He always knew what to say to make me laugh when I was having a bad day. He was also honest. If I asked his opinion about something, he wouldn't sugarcoat it."

"And how would you say your former impression of him contrasted with the Seifer you saw at the parade in Deling? Sorceress Edea's inauguration parade?"

Her warm eyes fell to her lap for a moment, and she glanced back up at Edmont before she responded, "Completely opposite. At the parade, his smile was...it wasn't him. He looked...I don't know. He didn't look like the Seifer that any of us knew. Everything he said, his jokes, they weren't sarcastic anymore. He always had this kind of dry humor to his jokes. Instead they were...twisted. It wasn't him."

Edmont tilted his chin up as he held Rinoa's gaze. "Do you still believe that he was under Sorceress Ultimecia's control when he threw you to Sorceress Adel's feet?"

Rinoa's eyes flickered over to Seifer's before she visibly swallowed. "Yes, I do."

"Why do you believe that?"

"I...I begged for him to stop, to not do it. I pleaded with him to let me go, to come back to us, to be the Seifer that I'd known," she muttered.

At Rinoa's recollection of an event that Seifer could barely remember, he swallowed down an equally thick lump in his throat. Though they hadn't worked out as far as their relationship went, he harbored no ill feelings towards Rinoa, and he doubted that he ever would. To toss your ex-girlfriend down in front of a homicidal maniac like Adel...that was beyond barbaric.

Hearing that he'd done exactly that to her...he clenched his jaw against the wave of self-disgust that swept over him. It was akin to kicking an injured puppy.

"The Seifer that I dated, that I'd known beforehand, would have _never_ done that," Rinoa finished, her voice sure.

"I see. You seem to be rather confident in your assessment of his mental state," Edmont commented.

Rinoa nodded and stated, "I am."

"That's surprising, considering for quite a large amount of time, you yourself were possessed by Ultimecia."

The previously silent courtroom was now filled by the sound of everyone inside murmuring to each other about Edmont's next line of questioning. Rinoa blinked and her mouth fell open in surprise. She recovered shortly after and closed it with a snap, saying, "I never denied that I was possessed. You never asked."

"No, I did not. But I am now. Tell me, how much of your time under Ultimecia's control do you recall?"

"All of it. Why?" Rinoa retorted.

" _All_ of it? Every single moment that you were not in control of your own actions, you can remember?" Edmont repeated.

"Yes, that's what I said. Why are you asking?" Rinoa demanded.

"I am simply interested in how that works. I won't ask you for the finite details of every event, but if you could, please try to describe to the court what the experience was like?"

Rinoa narrowed her eyes at the man and in a quiet, though no less angry tone, she responded, "You want me to tell everyone what it was like to see the people you cared about, that you _loved_ , be hurt and thrown aside because of something _you_ couldn't control? Do you honestly want me to go back and tell everyone in this room what it felt like to have someone in your mind _with you;_ to have to hide from that presence in the very corner of your subconsciousness? To not even be able to control yourself?"

At her rant, Edmont fell quiet and stared thoughtfully at the young sorceress, whose cheeks were flushed pink with anger. After a second or two, he responded, "That is exactly what I wanted. Thank you, Miss Heartilly." With that, he returned to his seat on the side of the room.

After Edmont sat down, the judge rubbed his temples as he stared down at his notes thus far. He lifted the gavel again and tapped it against his desk, then announced, "Another recess. We will reconvene again in fifteen minutes."

This time, Seifer shot to his feet and rushed out of the courtroom before anyone else could leave. When he walked out into the hallway, he took a deep breath and placed his hands on his hips as he stared down at his constricting dress shoes.

 _Why...why can't I remember more than fleeting moments over the entire war, but Rinoa remembers everything? What the fuck did you do to me, Ultimecia?!_

 _I only brought out the_ real _version of you, my knight. The_ best _version of you . . ._

The sultry echo of her voice drifted through his mind and he ran his fingers through his hair again, trying to force it from his thoughts. He started pacing back and forth until the door to the courtroom opened once more. When he spotted everyone coming out, he darted to the other end of the hall and resumed his anxiety-fueled marching when he was alone again.

He was muttering to himself as he concentrated on wearing grooves into the hallway. When he heard the sound of quiet footsteps on marble flooring, he came to a halt and looked up, meeting Rinoa's gaze.

They stared at each other for a few uncomfortable seconds, and Seifer started when he realized that he hadn't said anything to her yet. "Rin...uh, I mean Rinoa...what are you doing over here?"

She hesitated, shifting her weight onto her other foot before replying, "I wanted to come and see how you were doing. I didn't mean to...to lose it, like that." Her forehead pinched together as she frowned deeply and added as an afterthought, "That guy just made me so mad."

"Yeah? How'd Puberty Boy feel about you coming over here?" he needled, before he starting pacing again.

"He wasn't too happy about it. He's probably glaring at us right now, actually," she mumbled.

Seifer glanced down the hall at Squall, and scoffed when he realized that Rinoa had been right: Squall was practically staring daggers at him. "Yep."

Rinoa laughed once, before rubbing her upper arm with her other hand. "He's so predictable sometimes."

He nodded absentmindedly before staring into Rinoa's eyes. She shuffled uncomfortably under his scrutiny and when he spoke, she jumped. "Thanks. For earlier."

"Oh...you're welcome."

"Did you really mean what you said?"

"About?"

"About Adel. About defending me. All of it."

Rinoa tilted her head to the side as she appeared to think about how to respond. "I did. I still believe that that's something you wouldn't do, Seifer—even if we _did_ hate each other."

"And you _don't_ hate me?" he pressed.

She straightened her head and pinched her eyebrows together. "No, I don't. I never have. I knew that's not how you really were. Speaking from experience—" She shuddered before continuing. "—I know that while you're possessed, you really aren't in control of your actions. You do remember everything, though. _Every_ thing."

"I don't," Seifer admitted out of the blue.

His quick response threw Rinoa off-balance and she took a slight step back, her eyes widening in surprise. "You don't remember anything?"

"It's not that I don't remember _any_ thing. There are...some things I can see in my mind like it just happened. But the memories are like movies, or something. It's not—It doesn't feel like I was actually there, _doing_ the things," he explained, his voice tense with frustration.

Rinoa's gaze fell to the floor and she mumbled, "I don't understand."

"Yeah, you and me both," Seifer responded, looking away.

"Maybe...Maybe what _she_ did to you, was different than how she possessed me?" Rinoa offered.

Seifer crossed his arms, his face falling into an intense frown. "I don't fuckin' know. I don't get it."

Rinoa opened her mouth to reply but Squall appeared behind Rinoa then, and his arm curled around her thin frame. "Rin, we're heading back inside soon."

"Oh! Okay. I, um, if you want to talk Seifer...you know I'm always here, right?"

Seifer met Squall's eyes briefly before nodding. "Thanks."

She smiled hesitantly at him, the corners of her rosy pink lips barely rising, before she turned and headed back towards the rest of their group. Squall turned without saying anything and trailed after her, abruptly ending the conversation.

He hadn't gone more than two steps before Seifer called out, "Hey _Commander_."

Squall froze. When he turned back around, his eyes were narrowed.

Seifer continued. "Why'd you defend me in there?"

"Should I not have?"

"I just don't get it. Like you said, we were never friends. We'll never _be_ friends. Why do you care if I don't rot in jail?"

"...If you're not guilty, then you wouldn't deserve that."

"Do _you_ think I'm guilty?" Seifer challenged.

Squall held his gaze for a moment longer until he turned again and, without facing his former rival, said, "If I did, I wouldn't have testified on your behalf."

Seifer watched him walk away for a bit before trailing after him. When he had his hand on the brass handle of the courtroom door, he heard rapid footsteps nearing and looked to the right. Raijin was sprinting down the hall, waving his arm through the air at Seifer.

"SEIFER! WAIT UP, YA KNOW?!"

As his rambunctious friend neared, he spotted Fujin racing towards them, her eyebrows slanted sharply down and her mouth drawn tight. Raijin came to a stop in front of Seifer, panting as he bent over and tried to catch his breath. Fujin finally caught up and when she was standing beside Raijin, she lashed out and kicked him in the shin, causing the burly teen to hop up and down, clutching his leg as he howled in pain.

"SHOUTING," she reprimanded.

"Sorry Fuj, I just wanted Seifer ta wait up, ya know?"

"IDIOT. APPEARANCES."

"Sorry!"

Seifer shook his head, the corners of his lips curling up affectionately as he watched his two closest friends bickering like it was old times. He let go of the door handle and rubbed the back of his neck as he mumbled, "I'm glad you guys uh, I'm glad you made it."

Fujin faced him and a gentle smile spread across her face. "ALWAYS."

Raijin straightened and a broad grin spread across his face. "Yeah, we'll always be here for ya, ya know? Let's head in?"

Seifer nodded and pulled the door open, walking back into the stifling, oppressive atmosphere of the courtroom.

* * *

Holden stood and ambled over to the podium, stating into the microphone, "Galbadia Garden would like to call Fujin and Raijin, from Balamb Garden, to the stand please."

Edmont bolted upright and called out, "Objection, Your Honor! Because Fujin and Raijin served under Mr. Almasy during the war, albeit for a brief period of time, there is a conflict of interest that is at hand if Galbadia Garden carries out the questioning."

The judge nodded in agreement and gestured to Mr. Edmont. "Very well then, Mr. Edmont. You may begin your questioning."

The older man grinned, obviously pleased with himself, and stepped down to the main floor as a disgruntled Holden returned to his seat. Once the representatives were settled, Fujin and Raijin rose, making their way over to the stand in front of the witness box, since they couldn't both sit in one seat.

They stood at attention, facing Mr. Edmont with uncharacteristically stoic expressions—well, stoic for Raijin, anyway. Fujin looked like that all the time.

"State your names for the court, please," the clerk prompted.

"FUJIN."

"And Raijin, ya know?!"

Seifer chuckled into his fist at the fact that, even in an uptight military tribunal, his friends managed to remain themselves.

"Okay…" Edmont mumbled, before trailing off. He cleared his throat and continued. "Please, explain to the court your relationship to Mr. Almasy."

"We're his best friends, ya know? OW!" Raijin yelped. Fujin had kicked him in the shin again when he said "friend".

"FAMILY," she stated firmly, looking Edmont straight in the eyes. Her eyepatch made her stare all the more intense, and Edmont cringed at the eerie appearance of her crimson iris.

"I see. Family, then. But not by blood, correct?"

Fujin hesitated, then admitted, "NO."

"But it doesn't matter, ya know? We're always there for him," Raijin said, shrugging.

"So because of your...pseudo-familial bond, would you say you'd follow Mr. Almasy anywhere? Do anything he asked?" Edmont questioned.

Fujin glanced over at Seifer, her expression falling before she spoke again. "No, not anything," she whispered.

"I'm sorry?" Edmont prompted, cupping his ear with his hand to indicate that he hadn't heard Fujin.

"She means...during Lunatic Pandora. If Seifer asked, we'd do it, ya know? But that was the one time we put our foot down. Well, feet I guess," Raijin rubbed the back of his neck.

"I see. And what exactly was it that you refused to do?" Edmont inquired.

The duo glanced at each other, nodded, and turned back to face the man. Raijin said, "Well see, Squall and the gang showed up, trying to stop Seifer. We'd fought 'em a few times before but this time...we let them go by because...Seifer just wasn't Seifer, ya know?"

"You believe that he was being manipulated as well, then?"

"YES."

"Please explain," Edmont directed, gesturing to the two of them.

They nodded at each other again and Raijin continued. "Seifer has never been a _mean_ kinda guy. I mean sure, we were a little rough on other students with stuff like detention or whatever, ya know? But he'd never _hurt_ anyone. By the time we were at Lunatic Pandora, he'd...he'd done stuff...to innocent people and...we couldn't just let him keep goin'."

"HELP."

"Right! We wanted our friend back—our _old_ friend. We figured...lettin' Squall and them help by bringin' him to his senses, was our best bet. Kind of a last resort, ya know?"

Seifer listened to his friends speak on his behalf, his arms crossed over his chest. Surprisingly, he remembered their conversation at Lunatic Pandora. It was the _way_ that he remembered it that made him uncomfortable, though. The images in his mind played back to him as if he were standing on the outside, not as himself. He couldn't remember why he'd told them to move on with their lives, couldn't remember why he'd lifted his gunblade at Squall, and for the life of him, he couldn't remember _why_ he'd thrown Rinoa to Adel, like some sort of sacrificial lamb.

 _Because I was_ helping _you, my knight. Helping you do...what you were meant to do…_

He clenched his teeth when he heard her voice again, squeezing his eyes shut as he willed his mind into silence. When he opened them again, Edmont had started to pace back and forth.

The representative nodded, as if processing the information he'd received. He paused in his movements and swiveled around to face Fujin and Raijin again. "One last question: When you found Mr. Almasy at the orphanage in Centra...how did he seem to be? Normal? Like his old self? Or like the man you'd known during the war?"

His friends hesitated before glancing at each other once again. Fujin finally spoke up and muttered, "Different."

"Please clarify," Edmont sighed. He seemed fed up with Fujin's way of speaking, which irritated Seifer. Fujin didn't deserve _anyone's_ disdain; people just didn't _get_ her, like he and Raijin did.

"He was mumblin' to himself a lot. He didn't even notice me when we got there—I had to say somethin' to him. He was...he wasn't the same guy from the war. But he wasn't really our old friend, either."

"Did you still believe him to be under Sorceress Edea...forgive me, Sorceress _Ultimecia's_ control?"

Fujin shook her head in one firm motion before stating, "NO."

"Why not?"

"DIFFERENT."

Raijin quickly piped up and explained, "She means that he _felt_ different. He wasn't as…I don't know. He wasn't as _off_."

Edmont raised an eyebrow and eventually, nodded. "Thank you. That is all."

* * *

By this point in the trial, Seifer felt exhausted.

Holden and Edmont's questions had pulled him in one direction, only to jerk him back in the other. He'd been stretched so thin, it felt like he was about to snap. Physically, he was worn. Every time he stood, his legs felt like they could barely hold his weight. Whether that was a side effect of his mental exhaustion or something else, at this point, he couldn't say.

This time, it was Cid's turn to testify on both Seifer's behalf, as well as clarifying a few situations from Balamb Garden's point of view. The portly headmaster made his way to the witness stand, straightening his argyle sweater vest as he walked.

Once he'd sat, the judge waved his hand in the air, beating the clerk to her job. "As always, please state your name."

"Cid Kramer, Headmaster of Balamb Garden."

"Thank you, Mr. Kramer. Mr. Edmont, please proceed."

Edmont approached the podium, gathering a few of his papers before walking towards the witness box. "Mr. Kramer, you are the husband of Sorceress Edea, is that correct?"

Cid's normally amiable countenance fell into a frown and he mumbled, "I am."

"And you both oversaw the orphanage located at the Cape of Good Hope, on the Centran continent, correct?"

"Again, that is correct."

"So when the two of you left the orphanage and formed Balamb Garden, you took a few orphans with you, yes?"

"Just two."

"And those two were?"

"Squall Leonhart and Seifer Almasy."

"Both of the gunblade specialists at Balamb Garden, correct? The _only_ gunblade specialists?"

Cid's eyes behind his rounded glasses narrowed at Edmont. "...Yes. That is correct."

"And yet, you only officially adopted _one_ of those boys, correct?"

Cid shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable at the mention of the adoption. Seifer furrowed his eyebrows; he'd never known that the Kramers had adopted one of the original gang, let alone that they'd dragged him and Puberty Boy to Garden _with_ them.

The faint memory of standing on the front porch of the orphanage as the rain poured down on his face, came to him then. He remembered being surrounded by colossal marble columns, as he stared up at the grey clouds that floated overhead. They were filled to the brim with moisture, their undersides appearing to be nearly black, and he lowered his gaze from them to watch Quistis leave with her new adoptive family.

That memory faded into a contrasting image of luminescent sunshine breaking through the fluffy white clouds on a nicer day at the orphanage. Selphie, no older than five-years-old, skipped away from him, turning to wave enthusiastically at Matron before disappearing into another memory.

Zell leaving, Irvine leaving...all of them leaving until only he and Squall remained.

 _Fuckin' GFs. I'd never have forgotten any of that if it weren't for those sons of bitches. I'm barely remembering shit_ now, _eleven or_ _twelve years later._

The all-too familiar feeling of being unwanted, by anyone and everyone, lingered at the back of his mind. Over the years, that childhood emotion had transformed into bitterness and a whole lot of pent-up anger. Every time he thought he was over it, someone mentioned it again and it all came rushing back. He sighed, too emotionally drained at the moment to think about it any longer, and leaned back in his chair, propping his hands behind his head.

Cid hesitated again, his eyes flickering over to Seifer before he looked back at Edmont. Seifer quirked an eyebrow at the headmaster's reaction, and the graying man mumbled, "Yes, that is correct."

"Which one? If you wouldn't mind telling the court?"

Again, Cid didn't answer right away. When he finally did, his voice was quiet. "Seifer Almasy was the child we adopted."

Seifer bolted upright in his seat, his hands slamming down onto the wooden table in front of him. "The fuck?!" he exclaimed.

The judge pounded his gavel, the small hammer reverberating through the wooden surface of his desk. "Mr. Almasy! Contain yourself!"

"Sorry. Er, Your Honor," he mumbled, his gaze boring into Cid's.

The Headmaster shot an apologetic look in Seifer's direction, the corners of his mouth drawn down into a slight frown.

Edmont looked triumphant as he moved into his next line of questioning. "So. Sorceress Edea is your wife, and Seifer Almasy, her Knight, is your adopted son. Can you see how those two pieces of information make Mr. Almasy's case appear...well, frankly, not to his benefit?"

"I'm not sure I understand what you're trying to insinuate, Mr. Edmont," Cid deadpanned.

The judge piped up and commanded, "Mr. Edmont. Please ensure that you keep yourself in line."

Edmont glanced over to the judge and pressed his lips into a thin line, before continuing. "Well, from where I stand, it seems like you set everything up so that your adopted son could advance your wife's political and personal agenda, nearly a decade into the future."

"That is positively absurd. We did nothing of the sort," Cid replied.

"Do you have any proof of that?"

Seifer tossed his hand up into the air at the judge, as he met the man's gaze. _This guy is oversteppin' some serious lines here, Judge. You gonna step in?!_

The judge broke eye contact with Seifer and continued to observe Edmont and Cid's interaction, pursing his lips in thought as he pressed his fingers against his mouth.

Cid reached up and pushed his glasses farther up on his nose. "The statements of all of our students and faculty thus far have shown that your implication is incorrect. Besides, this trial is concerning Mr. Almasy, _not_ my wife. I would be happy to testify about this topic at a later time."

Edmont narrowed his eyes at Cid and the judge interjected with, "Mr. Kramer has a point, Mr. Edmont. Continue with your questioning, but in a different direction."

The Trabian representative sighed and mumbled, "Fine, in that case...Mr. Kramer, please elaborate on Mr. Almasy's behavior while a student at Balamb Garden."

"Would you not like to hear how he was as a child at our orphanage, first?" Cid rebutted.

"Just...start somewhere!" Edmont exclaimed, obviously frustrated.

The corners of Cid's lips twitched upwards and he shifted in his seat before responding. "Seifer was...oh, how do I say this in a way that the court will understand? Seifer was Seifer. He constantly played pranks on the other children, and rarely ever listened to anything Edea or myself would tell him to do. If we told him to wake up early to help around the orphanage, he'd make it a point to sleep in. If we told him a certain toy belonged to another child, he'd have it in his hands mere seconds later. He was...a handful."

Edmont guided Cid into the next stage of Seifer's life by asking, "And how did that behavior carry into his time at Garden?"

Cid chuckled as he glanced over at Seifer, who was listening with rapt attention. "It stayed much the same. As SeeD Trepe has already specified in her statement, Seifer didn't do well with the concept of authority figures. If she, or anyone else in the faculty for that matter, told him not to be late to class, Seifer would stroll in fifteen minutes after the bell. As we've discussed with his field exams, if he is ordered to fall back and return to the ships, he'd find a way to prolong the inevitable. Always pushing boundaries, always testing limits. In fact, I found it quite ironic that he was part of the Disciplinary Committee."

"Hypocritical, you mean?" Edmont specified.

Seifer scoffed at the older representative's insistence at painting him in a negative light. He knew that was their job, but it was kind of comical how hard Edmont was pushing it. Holden did it naturally, by twisting words and using them against Seifer. Edmont just...threw it out there, and it was painfully obvious what he was trying to do. Luckily, Cid wasn't having any of it.

"No, that's not at all what I meant. Even more ironically, under Seifer's watch, the students of Balamb Garden rarely ever committed offenses."

Behind Seifer, Zell muttered, "Yeah, because they were afraid he'd pop up out of nowhere and steal their hoverboards. Still pissed about that…"

Quistis must've kicked him because he heard Chicken-wuss yelp before falling silent again. He lifted his hand to his face and smirked into his palm.

"I see. Don't you find that odd?" Edmont pressed.

"Odd? Whyever would I find that odd?" Cid echoed.

"Well...here Mr. Almasy is disorderly, purposefully ignores commands and orders, and yet he's in charge of the Disciplinary Committee? Did you ever wonder if perhaps he joined the Committee to have access to more power? So that he could abuse it?"

Cid shook his head vehemently. "We rarely ever received complaints that the Committee had overstepped their boundaries. When Garden was still under NORG's...supervision...even the former faculty had praise for Seifer and his efforts to contain misconduct under our roof."

At that, Seifer raised an eyebrow. The former members of faculty had always sneered at him whenever he passed by, and when he was carrying out disciplinary action, they tended to scurry in the opposite direction. He highly doubted that _any_ of them had ever praised him.

 _Leave it to Cid to embellish the story. Thanks...old man._

Clearly unhappy at Cid's new piece of information, Edmont tapped his chin thoughtfully before stating, "Your Honor, I believe that is all that I have for Mr. Kramer."

The judge nodded and tapped his gavel once more. While Cid returned to his seat beyond the railing, the judge gazed down the long length of his nose at Seifer, who returned his stare, albeit reluctantly.

In a quiet voice, the judge announced, "Mr. Almasy. It is now your turn."

Seifer raised his eyebrows and glanced over his shoulder at his former headmaster. Cid smiled encouragingly as Selphie leaned over and gave Seifer an enthusiastic thumbs-up, which surprised Seifer, considering she hadn't said a word to him before the trial had begun. He glanced over at Irvine and the cowboy didn't look all too happy with her encouragement, either.

He turned back around and nodded to the judge before rising from his seat and striding over to the raised platform. The security guard opened the swinging half-door for him and he brushed past the man and sank down onto the witness seat, rubbing his sweaty palms down the tops of his pants again.

The clerk called out, "Please state your name."

Seifer cleared his throat and replied, "Seifer Almasy."

"Thank you, Mr. Almasy. Both Mr. Edmont and Mr. Holden will be conducting your cross-examination," she replied, before taking her seat on the other side of the judge.

He nodded curtly and the two men made their way down to the floor of the courtroom to stand before Seifer. They both studied him intently, silently, and he glared back at them, challenging them to do their best.

Edmont stepped forward first, which surprised him. The Trabian representative glanced over at Holden and when he turned back to Seifer, he began. "Mr. Almasy. What do you remember of your time at the orphanage?"

Seifer leaned forward in his seat, grabbing the lapel of his jacket to fluff out the hemline of his trenchcoat, until he remembered that he wasn't wearing it. Clearing his throat, he replied, "Not much. GFs tend to erase your memories, or so I've heard."

"But you never officially became a SeeD, and so, the GFs wouldn't have had the time to erase much, correct?"

"I still trained to be one, but yeah, I guess there's logic in that."

"So I'll ask again: what do you remember of your time at the orphanage? There must be something you recall."

He sighed before crossing his arms over his chest and looking away. Without meeting Edmont's eyes again, he said, "I...I remember kicking over sand castles. I remember the crashing of the waves at the beach below the back patio. I remember everyone leaving me and Squall behind. That's about it."

That was a lie. He remembered much more than that.

Ever since Ultimecia's defeat and his mind had been set free—in addition to the lack of GF use since he'd joined the wrong side—fleeting memories from his past had begun to return to him at inconvenient moments. He'd be walking to the bathroom and a memory from the orphanage would slam into him. Or he'd be trying to watch TV to pass the time, and a memory of his early days at Garden would play through his mind like a movie.

He hated it. He also wasn't about to spill his guts to the entire courtroom about the "good ol' days".

"I see. Then, you remember nothing of going to Balamb Garden with your adoptive parents, or Squall Leonhart?"

"Nope. Not a thing." That wasn't a lie.

Holden stepped forward then and held up his hand towards Edmont. "Perhaps that's a bit _too_ far into the past, hm? How about this, Mr. Almasy. Why don't you walk us through your experience in the war? Starting with the beginning."

"The beginning could mean something different for a lot of people. How 'bout you be a little more specific?" he replied, resting his elbows on the railing in front of him.

Holden's eyebrow twitched as he experienced Seifer's disdain for authority first hand. " _Your_ beginning, Mr. Almasy. Start with when you broke out of the disciplinary room at Balamb Garden, bound for Timber."

"I found out that Puberty Boy—" From across the room, Seifer spotted Quistis glaring at him and he cut himself off mid-sentence. When she tilted her head slightly, he sighed before continuing. "I found out that _Squall_ , Zell, and Selphie had been ordered to Timber on their first mission. I was the one who got Rinoa that mission, so I knew why they were going."

"Why did you break out of the disciplinary room? Did you not think they could handle themselves?"

"Of course I didn't think they could! This was the _day_ after their graduation ball. They were still wet behind the ears!"

"And you weren't?"

"Hey, I might've never _passed_ a field exam, but I'd like to remind everybody that I took _three_ of 'em. That's more field experience than even Miss Instructor over there."

"Alright then. So you didn't believe that the commander and his team were qualified. Why did you break out of the disciplinary room?"

"They needed someone there to make sure they didn't screw up! Plus, I owed Rinoa. I set the contract up and everything so I wanted to see it through."

"And was that feeling of obligation due to the fact that you and Miss Heartilly were romantically involved?"

"Nah, not really. By that point, we'd decided to stop seein' each other. It was more so out of...we were friends, I guess. I owed her."

"I see. I'll ask again, Mr. Almasy. Why did you break out of the disciplinary room to go after Squall and his team?"

"What are you, deaf? I just told you! They needed my help!"

"So you didn't think it was important to note that no one had given you _orders_ to assist Squall and his team? Considering you had failed the exam and therefore, you weren't a SeeD?"

"No. They needed help, I decided to go. That was about it."

Holden narrowed his eyes at Seifer and Edmont decided to use the opportunity to take over. "Very well, then. Fast forward to the Timber TV Station. Walk us through that, please?"

Seifer rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest again. "I got there, Deling was giving a speech, I pulled him aside—"

Holden interrupted him and said, "Threatened him, you mean?"

"Yeah, whatever. Anyway, I grabbed him and people started running back and forth. Trepe was freakin' out and pleading with Squall and them to show up, and when they did, Zell opened his big, fat mouth, and revealed that we were from Garden.

"Deling put two and two together and figured out that he'd meant _Balamb_ Garden, so I told them all to straighten this shit out, and walked out of the room with Deling."

Holden piped up then and questioned, "Here's what I don't understand, Mr. Almasy. Why grab President Deling in the first place?"

Edmont looked irked that the other man had stolen the reins back.

Seifer shrugged. "He was the closest person of importance. Figured that was the best way to get a lot of people's attention."

Holden looked like he was holding himself back from rolling his eyes at Seifer's logic—or lack thereof. Edmont cleared his throat and gestured to Seifer before saying, "What happened after you left the room?"

Seifer's face fell into a frown as he tried to recall the specific memory from his cobweb-infested memory bank. "I uh, dragged him into the next room which was all purple and shit, which was fucking weird. I still had Deling by the neck and that's when...that's when...Edea showed up."

"Sorceress Edea?" Holden repeated.

"How many fuckin' Edeas do you know, huh?" Seifer threw back at him.

The judge sighed, as if used to Seifer's attitude by now and in a monotone voice, reprimanded, "Mr. Almasy. Language, please."

"Tch. Fine. Yes, Sorceress Edea."

"What did she say to you?"

Seifer looked away from Holden, meeting Edea's gaze over the man's shoulder. Edea's face fell when they locked eyes, and she nodded subtly at him from across the room, as if giving him permission to throw her to the wolves.

"It doesn't matter what she _said_ to me. In the end, I still went with her."

"Willingly?"

"I don't know. I mean, if you asked me, 'could you have walked away?' I don't know what I'd tell you. It was like...it was like I wouldn't have _wanted_ to walk away."

"So...you're saying that you _did_ go willingly?"

"No! Are you even listening to me? It was like she made me _believe_ that that's what I wanted, when it wasn't. Shit, it's...I can't explain it."

"So what you're saying, is that you were manipulated, by Sorceress Edea, to believe that you wanted to go with her?"

Seifer started clapping slowly as he taunted, "Give the guy a medal."

Holden clenched his hands into tight fists, taking deep breaths before he finally asked his next question. "What happened after you left with Sorceress Edea?"

Seifer shrugged again. "I don't know."

Edmont sighed in frustration. "You don't remember anything?"

"Nothing from the moment that I left with her, up until the parade."

Another lie. Well, a half-lie. A white lie? Is that what they called those?

He remembered _fragments_ of that period of time. Flashes of Edea's face, hidden behind a beaked red mask, the ruffle of her black feathers every time she turned...the eerie slither of her voice, as she stroked her sharp nails along his chin. The feeling of watching yourself do something you knew you'd never do, the feeling of being unable to control your movements but understanding that it was _you_ committing those heinous acts...not someone else.

He remembered that.

Edmont continued. "...I see. In that case, tell us about the parade."

"What do you wanna know? I thought most of that was on record already."

"Tell us about _your_ version of events."

Seifer hesitated before explaining, "Edea told me that there was going to be a parade in her honor, and that she wanted me to stand beside her. As her Knight."

"It was at this parade that Squall and his team attempted to assassinate Sorceress Edea, correct?"

"Yep."

"Do you remember the assassination attempt, then?"

"Yeeep."

"Elaborate? If you will?" Edmont pressed.

Seifer sighed, interlacing his fingers and propping his hands up behind his head again. "We were traveling through the city, waving to the crowd and whatnot. You know, shit people do during parades. When we passed underneath the archway, the gates came down and Cowboy over there—Sorry, Irvine—fired a bullet, aiming straight for Edea."

"And the bullet did not hit its target, is that correct?"

Seifer pointed over at Edea and replied, "Take a look for yourself. She's still there, ain't she?"

Edmont sighed and Holden stepped forward again. In an exasperated voice, he said, "Yes, we realize that, Mr. Almasy. Please, for the sake of this trial...just answer the questions."

"Yeah, yeah. No, the bullet did not hit her. She threw up a shield."

"And that's when Squall and his team approached the float, intent on finishing the job."

"You got it," Seifer replied.

"This was the first time you and your former peers were officially at odds, yes?"

"If you're asking if that was the first time we tried to _kill_ each other then, yeah. It was." At that, Seifer and Squall held each other's gaze. After a few intense seconds, Holden spoke up again and Squall broke eye contact, his eyes dropping to his lap.

"Obviously, you didn't succeed. How much were you aware of that altercation, Mr. Almasy?"

"Well, I was _there_. Uh, are you asking how much of _me_ was in that fight?"

"Yes Mr. Almasy, that is what I'm asking."

Seifer hesitated again, though this time, it was for much longer than before. In truth, he remembered that entire fight. And what was worse, he'd actually been looking _forward_ to meeting Squall in a real battle. He couldn't exactly admit that to the two representatives without making himself look guilty. He also couldn't lie, because that could come back to bite him in the ass.

When he still hadn't said anything after another minute or so, Holden pressed him again. "Mr. Almasy? Was that fight something that you desired?"

He looked up at Holden sharply, his mouth pressed into a thin line. From between clenched teeth, he admitted, "Yes."

Holden, _the little shit_ , cupped his hand around his ear, much like Edmont had done to Fujin earlier and taunted, "I'm sorry Mr. Almasy, one more time?"

"Yes, I fucking wanted it, alright?! I wanted to square off against Squall—see who was better. But did I want to kill him? Hell no!" he shouted.

The corner of Holden's lips twitched as he fought to hide his triumphant enthusiasm. "I see. So in other words, the Sorceress was _not_ controlling you during that fight?"

"I didn't fuckin' say that."

"You all but admitted that you wished to fight the Commander. Are you going back on your word now?"

"No! Let me...let me explain. I didn't want to _kill_ any of them. But I never turned down any of Squall's sparring requests or whatever. I was always down to train. To get to test your skill with your weapon, against the only other guy who uses the _same_ weapon...that's not a chance you get often. So yes, I wanted to fight Squall, in a _real_ fight, none of that training bullshit. But I didn't want to _kill_ him—which is what she made me feel. She amplified my desire to fight into something that was...it wasn't me, man. Fuck, it wasn't me."

Edea covered her mouth with a gasp and turned away, tears pooling in her eyes. Cid draped his arm across her small frame—murmuring reassuring words in her ear, no doubt. As difficult as this was for Seifer to admit, it was just as difficult for her to hear that she'd essentially twisted his mind into something that was no longer human. Possessed or not, it couldn't be easy to hear about yourself.

Seifer was breathing heavily by this point, his hands clenched into fists in his lap. Holden stared Seifer down, his gaze level. Finally, the Galbadian representative demanded, "Tell us about D-District Prison."

He shoved his fingers into his hair, parting the blond strands again. After lowering his head onto his chest, he let out a long exhale. Bringing his hands down around his neck, he looked back up at Holden and in a tight voice, asked, "What about it?"

As hard as he tried to fight it, he was beginning to get frustrated. Question after question, after question...would they ever reach the end? No matter how much he recounted, explained, or warped the truth, would they _ever_ understand? Could they ever?

Holden narrowed his eyes at Seifer, as if sensing that he'd struck a nerve. "Please explain what happened, in _detail_."

Seifer glanced over at Squall and his former rival held his gaze as he replied, "I interrogated Commander Squall Leonhart about the real purpose of SeeD."

"Which was?"

"I don't know. He never told me."

Edmont piped up and asked, "What were the methods that you used?"

Seifer glanced over at Holden before looking back at Edmont and saying, "Pretty sure your pal over there was the one who stated we couldn't discuss that so...next question."

Edmont opened his mouth to respond but Holden beat him to it. "Who ordered you to interrogate the Commander?"

"Edea."

"Why did she want to know the true purpose of SeeD?"

Seifer placed his hands behind his head again and said, "I don't know. She never told me. That was just what I was supposed to get outta him."

"Mr. Almasy—" Holden began as he started to pace back and forth in front of the witness box. "—How is it that nearly every single witness who has testified on your behalf, has clearly stated that you have no respect for authority, and even _less_ respect for obeying orders...and yet, you took orders from Sorceress Edea with no qualms?"

 _A damn good question, isn't it?_ he thought as he and Holden locked eyes.

Eventually, Seifer shrugged and muttered, "I don't know. I just...I had to listen to her."

"Why? What would you lose by _not_ obeying to her orders?"

Holden's question set off another flashback.

* * *

 _She glared at him with her wild, eerie, molten eyes. As her gaze remained fixated on his, making it impossible for him to look away, the torrential waves of her anger rolled off of her, manifesting in the high screech of her voice._

 _Because of the sheer force of her wrath, the atmosphere in the room was thick, charged, and various objects lifted into the air, floating for no apparent reason. Vases, plates, utensils...everything was pulled upwards by invisible forces._

 _Every time she shouted, an object would propel towards him. Some of them nicked him and drew blood, others soared over his head and crashed into the wall behind him. Held in place by her magic, on his knees, he had no choice but to take the hits, trying not to cringe because weakness was something she picked up on. No, it was more like she_ sensed _his fear before he could even process that that was the emotion he was feeling._

 _As if she was in his mind._

" _HOW! How could you have let them get away?! You've failed me yet again!" she bellowed, the serrated edge of a knife slicing along his forearm as it sailed past him._

" _I'm sorry," he mumbled._

" _Sorry?! Sorry is something that foolish little boys state when they've made a small mistake, like breaking their mother's favorite vase. You, my_ knight _, have failed in something that I ordered you to do. That—" Her shrill voice faded into a whisper and she finished, "—is unacceptable…"_

 _She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor, causing the hollow sound to echo around them. If he could have, he would've winced in anticipation as she neared his immobile body._

 _When she stood directly in front of him, her cold, heartless eyes locked onto his and with her mouth slack, her expression neutral, she traced a claw along his stubbled chin. Though he couldn't shiver, he felt goosebumps break out along his skin, and the hair along his neck raised up._

" _You know what happens, what I do to you, when you fail me...don't you? My dear Knight…" she trailed off, her voice monotone._

 _He didn't respond, and she dragged her claw down to his shoulder, keeping it poised above him, her gaze still fixated on his. Without warning, the claw extended and the sharpened tip ripped through his flesh, muscle and bone, erupting on the opposite side, now dripping with his blood._

 _Released from his invisible bonds, he threw his head back and screamed in sheer agony, the thick muscles in his neck straining against his skin._

 _In a quiet voice, she asked, "You won't fail me again...will you, my Knight?"_

* * *

"Mr. Almasy?"

Seifer blinked, and the image of that dark, frigid room, his blood dripping onto the tiled floors, morphed into the wood-paneled courtroom.

His eyes darted around the room before landing on Holden's face.

 _I knew that you would never forget about me . . . we are bound together, you and I. You are my Knight and I . . . I will always be your Sorceress . . ._

He stared at Holden for so long, that the normally stoic representative shuffled in place. In a voice so unlike the usual—devoid of all humor, all sarcasm, and replaced with the cold, distant tone he'd had during the war—he replied, "My sanity."

Holden blinked rapidly in surprise, as if what Seifer had said hadn't been what he was expecting to hear. Edmont sensed his fellow representative's uncertainty and cleared his throat before moving the trial along. "So what came next, Mr. Almasy?"

As if a switch had been flipped, Seifer's empty, vacant expression twisted into a scowl, and he leaned back in his chair. With disdain coloring his words, he spat, "You know what comes next. I ordered them to launch missiles at Trabia _and_ Balamb Garden."

"Again though, not your decision, correct? Or at least, the decision was _influenced_ , made for you. That is what you've been saying about all of your actions thus far, am I right?" Holden rebutted. He'd recovered and from his tone of voice, it was clear that he doubted that was the truth.

His lip curled up in a sneer as he stared up at Holden. "Yeah, that's right. Edea said jump, so I asked how high? Shoot missiles at Garden? Sure, how many? Fuckin' picnic, it was."

"Mr. Almasy," the judge reprimanded, deadpan.

Seifer rolled his eyes and Holden continued, "What came next?"

"After the missiles didn't wipe Balamb Garden off the face of the map, we regrouped. Edea had to plan our next course of action, so we returned to Galbadia Garden, which we used as a temporary base, to figure shit out. Reports came back that Balamb Garden was fuckin' flying at this point, so we figured, let's make ours fly, too. We went up and into the air, and sailed over to meet Balamb Garden in Centra."

"Is this a joke to you, Mr. Almasy? I ask you questions seriously and yet you throw back sarcastic responses. It's difficult to for me to tell whether or not you actually _care_ about being sentenced," Holden questioned.

"Gee, I don't know. Seems like you've got me all figured out by now, so what does it matter what I say?" Seifer mumbled.

Edmont stepped up then, and placed his hand on Holden's shoulder. The older representative leaned over and whispered something in Holden's ear. Holden glared at Seifer before nodding and returning to his seat. Afterwards, Edmont ambled over to stand in front of Seifer, interlacing his fingers and resting them against the front of his body.

"Mr. Almasy. Please, tell us about what happened next," the Trabian representative requested, his voice soft and gentle.

He narrowed his eyes at Edmont, suspicious of the sudden change in tactics. "Next was the fight. We crashed into Balamb Garden and our G-Forces hopped over onto their balcony. Kids were dying left and right. The Commander and his team confronted Edea and I in Gabadia Garden's auditorium," he stated. His eyes dropped to the railing before he mumbled, "I don't remember much about that fight, so..."

"The fight where Commander Leonhart and his team defeated you and Edea?"

"Yeah. One minute, I'm standing in front of her, pointing my gunblade at Squall's face. The next, I'm in fuckin' Esthar—sorry, _freakin'_ Esthar."

"You don't remember anything about the fight? Anything at all? Even after you were defeated?"

"Ah shit, I don't _know_. The fight…" Seifer trailed off as he tried to wrack his brain of any memory from that day, _any_ memory at all.

"The only thing I remember feeling during the fight is...a shitload of rage. I was so pissed at everything, at _everyone_. All I wanted to do was tear shit apart with my bare hands. After Squall kicked my ass I just...things went blank."

"Really? A total lack of conscious thought after the fight?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he responded.

Again, not exactly. Before the fight, Seifer remembered losing moments of active consciousness. He stood there, in front of Edea, Hyperion raised and pointed straight at Squall's face. A flash of rage would shoot through him as he stared into his rival's cold eyes, then a blissful moment of emptiness would follow. As if he'd blinked, and forgotten that the world existed for those few seconds. Then, his vision would return and he'd be blinded by uncontrollable anger once again.

Once the fight started, that anger had been all he could remember. _Cut them down, destroy them, end their existence forever . . ._ That had been his mantra the entire time they crossed blades.

Afterwards, a euphoric silence settled over his mind, like the dark pall of eternal slumber. He laid there on the ground for what felt like years—the most peaceful years he'd experienced in a long time.

Until her voice had returned.

She urged him to rise, to continue on with the mission she'd given him. Threats of torture that he knew all too well that she was capable of conducting, hovered on the edge of his mind. From his lips, a wave of heat spread outwards, to the tips of his fingers, to the ends of his toes. Unable to control his own actions, as if he were a puppet held up by his master's strings, he rose to his feet and followed her voice out of the room.

Edmont held Seifer's gaze as the blond gunbladist reminisced about the past. The past that he was barely beginning to remember—even now, a month after her defeat.

In a soft voice, the Trabian representative asked, "Next came Esthar?"

Seifer nodded, the lump that was now in his throat preventing him from speaking without sounding like a prepubescent boy.

"Why did the Sorceress send you to Esthar?"

"Lunatic Pandora. She didn't explain _why_ I needed to get it up and running, just that I had to."

"And after the fact, you realized why, is that correct?"

"With all the fucking monsters everywhere, hard not to realize what had happened. She had me activate the Lunar Cry."

A moment of silence fell upon the inhabitants of the room at the mention of the Lunar Cry. Though Esthar was not directly involved in the tribunal, as they had no Garden of their own, they all took a moment to respectfully remember the fallen Estharians. Seifer was secretly glad that Esthar wasn't here, because had they been present, and had they been offered the opportunity to speak, he didn't imagine they would've had good things to say.

He'd take Trabia's two cents over Esthar's any day.

Edmont continued. "And you fought the Commander and his team for the last time in Lunatic Pandora, is that correct?"

"...Yeah."

"Do you remember anything about _that_ fight?"

"Not really. Bits and pieces; less than the last one, that's for sure."

"Would you walk us through what you _do_ remember?"

"We had Ellone. They...Fujin and Raijin...they turned their backs on me—" On the other end of the courtroom, he saw Fujin shaking her head vehemently, as Raijin crossed his arms over his chest, his lips turned down in a scowl. "—Well, maybe not _me_ but...the manipulated version of me. Squall and I...his team...we fought. I was defeated."

"And afterwards?"

"I remember pain—a lot of it. I remember laying there, on the floor; couldn't move, couldn't get up. Out of nowhere it was like, a huge surge of energy hit me and I...I just _got back up_. I don't know how, because whatever they'd summoned knocked me to my ass pretty good. But that anger was back. In fact, that anger never left, not since Galbadia Garden."

"What did the Sorceress tell you to do?"

"To bring...Rinoa...to her," Seifer replied, glancing over at Rinoa.

Her arms were wrapped around her chest, as if she were hugging herself to contain her emotions. He remembered that she used to do that a lot, especially after bad arguments with Caraway. She had the same look on her face now as she had the nights that she and her father fought: her lips were pressed into a thin line, her dark eyebrows were tight over her warm eyes. She looked so...vulnerable.

He hated that she was looking at _him_ like that. The real Seifer would never hurt her, never intentionally. Why would he?

The Seifer that he was talking about now, the one that had been there at Lunatic Pandora, throwing an innocent girl to the feet of a sadistic, cruel Sorceress…

He didn't know who _that_ Seifer was.

"What did she want with Rinoa?"

"I don't know, she didn't tell me. She just compelled me to bring her."

"And at this point, Ultimecia was possessing Adel, is that correct?"

"Yeah."

"What happened after you gave Miss Heartilly to Adel?"

The older gentleman was so polite in his words. ' _Gave_ Miss Heartilly to Adel', as if he'd wrapped her in gift paper and topped her off with a glittery bow. No, he'd literally shoved her towards Adel. Rinoa had fallen to her hands and knees, staring up at the inhuman evil Sorceress that had been so out of control, Esthar had locked her up in _space_ , for Hyne's sake.

"I don't remember."

"What do you mean, 'you don't remember'?"

"I mean exactly that, old man. I _don't remember_. I don't remember anything from the second Rinoa left my arms, until after I woke up in Centra."

Holden finally piped up again from the other side of the room and accused, "Don't you find that rather convenient, Mr. Almasy? You don't remember a vital point in your life that could determine whether you were actually in control of your mind or not?

"Many things happened after Lunatic Pandora and the Lunar Cry. Time Compression, for one. Where were _you_? Were you with Ultimecia or were you hiding out, waiting for the coast to be clear again?"

The judge tapped his gavel once in warning, and glared down at the Galbadian representative. "Mr. Holden, contain yourself!"

"Forgive me, Your Honor. But my questions stand. I would like Mr. Almasy to answer them," Holden apologized, before turning his keen gaze on Seifer.

Seifer curled his fingers into his palms, clenching his hands so tightly, he shook. He narrowed his eyes at Holden, barely able to contain his anger as he retorted, "Yeah, pretty convenient for me to forget a whole fuckin' _chunk_ of my life. Let me tell you how convenient that is! I don't know where I went, I don't know what I did, I don't remember nearly three fuckin' _days_ of my life. How is that convenient for me?! How is that—"

The judge interrupted Seifer with another tap of his gavel. "Mr. Almasy! We get the point. Please _try_ to restrain your anger, however founded it may be," he stated, as he stared Holden down.

Holden cleared his throat, fidgeting in his chair under the judge's intense gaze, and continued. "What happened after time compression was lifted, then?"

"Don't you already know this? It spat me out around the orphanage in Centra. I had to hoof it like three miles, but I made it there."

"And you were there for...how long?"

"Shit, I don't know. Two weeks? Three weeks? Somethin' like that."

"And then your friends came and found you, by whatever miracle of chance, and here we are. Is that right?"

Seifer narrowed his eyes at Holden's tone of voice. _What the hell is this guy's problem?_

"Yeah, that's right," he retorted.

"Very well. That is all _I_ have, Your Honor. Edmont?" Holden questioned his colleague. Edmont shook his head and returned to his seat.

The judge tapped his gavel thrice and rose, announcing, "And now, this court will adjourn for an indeterminate period of time, as the members of the Tri-Garden Council determine the verdict. We will announce when we reconvene."

Everyone inside of the courtroom, beyond the wooden railing, rose and shuffled out into the hall, but Seifer remained seated in the witness box. He stared down at the plush, ornate crimson carpet, his eyes tracing the patterns around the room.

What could he have said differently? Should he have admitted the things that he _did_ remember, that he'd said he hadn't? Should he have approached any of the questions in a different way? Would any of that have made any difference in the end?

A few seconds passed by and he still hadn't gotten up. In his field of vision, a pair of patent black boots walked into view and he glanced up, meeting Fujin's single eye. She tilted her head towards the door, where Raijin stood waiting for them, and Seifer nodded before slowly rising to his feet.

The three of them traipsed out in the hallway and after they walked through the open doorway, the clerk closed the massive doors behind them, placing a sign on the handle that read: 'Deliberation in process. _Do not_ interrupt.'

They made their way down to the other end of the hall again, choosing to stay away from the rest of the group. Seifer sank down onto the bench along the wall, as Raijin started to pace back and forth. Normally, he'd tell his friend to sit his ass down because the constant movement made him dizzy but...the predictable pitter-patter of his footsteps echoing on the marble floors...comforted him. It was a reminder that in this tense moment, he _wasn't_ alone—no matter how much he might feel like he was.

As the minutes continued to pass, Raijin continued to pace...and then he paced some more...only to finally flop down on the bench opposite from Seifer. His friend let out a long, drawn-out sigh, as he started tapping his foot against the floor.

Seifer chuckled softly under his breath before saying, "You'd think you were more anxious than I was, Rai."

"I just don't see why this is takin' so long, ya know?!" Raijin exclaimed as he threw his hands up.

Fujin glanced over from where she was leaning against the wall, pausing in her inspection of her dress jacket, and deadpanned, "THINK."

"Well yeah, Fuj, I get that they're thinkin' but, come on! How much is there to think _about_?"

"A lot, apparently. Do I rot in jail for the rest of my life? Do they _execute_ me? All important questions…" Seifer trailed off.

Fujin looked sharply over at Seifer, the tight draw of her eyebrows pulling her eyepatch lower on her face. "DON'T."

"Why not? It's a legitimate end to this whole shitstorm."

"Don't say things like that, Seifer," she muttered, before looking back down at her boots.

He tsked at her before propping his hands behind his head and leaning back on the wall.

The minutes continued to tick by.

Raijin resumed his pacing. Fujin continued to study her boots.

Seifer just sat there, his gaze fixated on the ornate wall across the way.

Over an hour later, the door to the courtroom finally creaked open and Seifer shot to his feet. His mind caught up with his actions a second later and he looked down at the floor, not wanting anyone to see how embarrassed he was that his nervousness was just made obvious to everyone around him. It was kind of hard _not_ to notice, what with how fast he'd stood up.

The clerk waved everyone back inside the room, and shut the door once Seifer and his posse brushed past her. They parted ways at the railing: Fujin and Raijin taking their seats behind it, while Seifer continued past to sit at the table. Once the clerk was seated beside the judge again, the judge pounded his gavel against its stand, declaring the continuation of the trial.

Once everyone in the room had settled and the noise of the chatter had died down, he called out, "The Tri-Garden Council has discussed all sides of the matter, as thoroughly as we may hope, with the evidence provided by all parties involved. After much debate, we have reached a conclusion."

The judge held out his hand in Seifer's direction, asking, "Mr. Almasy, if you would please stand, as the verdict is read."

With legs that quivered as if he hadn't used them in years, Seifer rose to his feet, clenching his hands into fists. His shoulders were tense, his posture rigid as he stood completely still, awaiting the words that would determine his fate, the rest of his life, his very existence.

Holden and Edmont stood, and Seifer faced them, noticing the single, flimsy piece of paper in Holden's hand. Edmont began with, "Mr. Almasy. You have committed heinous crimes against the people of our world. There was no city, no country left unaffected by your actions while under Sorceress Edea, and in turn, Sorceress Ultimecia's supposed control.

"You betrayed a great deal of people, deliberately disobeyed innumerable orders, and twisted the loyalty of those that you oversaw, to your own sick and disturbing agenda."

Edmont's voice rose in volume as he continued. "Throughout the entirety of the war, you have never showed an ounce of remorse for those that you've killed, harmed, nor for the lives that you've ruined. You've plowed over anyone in your way, with nothing but your end goal in mind. At the forefront of every single decision you've made, you've considered _only_ yourself."

 _This is it. This is where it ends._

Edmont let out a deep sigh as he glanced at the paper in his hand. "Despite...despite all that I have just said, due to the nearly unanimous opinion that you were completely under the control of the Sorceress and therefore, not of sound mind, the Tri-Garden Council and this court have found you…"

 _For fuck's sake man, just spit it out!_ Seifer thought, clenching his jaw so hard that he could hear his teeth grinding.

Holden turned and stared straight into Seifer's bright eyes.

"...Not guilty, and hereby cleared of all charges." Holden finished.

Seifer's knees buckled and he caught himself on the table. _Holy shit. They're...they're letting me go? I'm...really..._ not _guilty?_

A whoop, paired with a loud cry of excitement sounded from behind him and suddenly, Fujin and Raijin were by his side, embracing him tightly in triumphant glee. He stood there as Raijin clapped him on the back, a wide smile gracing his features. Fujin stared up at him with her one good eye, tears pooling in it as she nodded at him—a single, sure, relieved motion.

Seifer raised his arms, wrapping them around his friend's shoulders as he mumbled, "So, I'm really free?"

Raijin broke away before letting out a chuckle, and he started dancing up and down while Fujin remained enveloped in Seifer's embrace. She laid her head on his chest and whispered, "Yes, Seifer. We can go home."

* * *

 **A/N:** _See you guys on August 23rd (Squall's birthday! Thanks for the reminder, Summoner Luna), when the third part goes live. Hope you're enjoying it so far!_


	3. Part III

**Author's Note:**

 _The third part is set after the trial._

* * *

 **Six months later.**

"Sorry, we're not hiring."

"Yeah, you and everyone else in this damn town," Seifer muttered as he walked away from the counter and wrenched the establishment's front door open. He stalked out onto the street before slamming the door shut behind him.

It'd been six months since he'd been declared 'not guilty', and finding a job was proving to be difficult. No, scratch that—it was impossible.

Everyone recognized him on sight and even though he had been given an official pardon, people were hesitant to even _speak_ to him. It was as if they were afraid that he'd lash out at them if they even so much as held his gaze for too long.

It was funny, in a sadly non-humorous kind of way. When he'd been head of the Disciplinary Committee at Garden, he would've given anything to have _real_ power, real influence over other people's emotions. Now that he had received a taste of that, only to have it ripped away, as well as experiencing it firsthand after the whole debacle, he'd give anything to make this feeling go away.

 _I gave you a taste of power and now you thirst for it,_ long _for it . . . Do not deny yourself what you so desire . . ._

Shaking his head to rid himself of her voice, he chose to ignore the slight inkling of truth in her statement. Ever since time compression had ended, her voice in his mind had been a constant presence. However, he still didn't know whether she was _actually_ with him, or whether he needed to go and see a shrink for his fucked up head. Honestly, he wasn't sure he wanted to find out. In the end, did it even matter? If he _was_ stuck with her, what good would that knowledge do? She was a sorceress, for Hyne's sake— _the_ sorceress. If she wanted to plague him forever, then that's exactly what she'd do. If she _wasn't_ real, then it would mean that he was certifiably insane and the public didn't generally like an insane ex-Sorceress' Knight, ex-almost mercenary, roaming around in their midst.

Choosing to ignore her altogether, he huffed and propped his hands on his hips, sweeping his eyes from one end of the cobblestone street to the other.

It was only noon, and he'd already inquired about a job at half the shops in Timber. While it was true that the bigger the city, the likelier people were to recognize him, he knew he couldn't stand to live in some small, backwater town. Hyne-forbid he move somewhere like Winhill. What the hell would he do with himself _there_?

In contrast to that, it wasn't as if he could reside in Deling City. There was such a thing as _too_ big—contrary to what people liked to think—and he wasn't about to go running back to the very city that everything had started in.

Then again, one could argue that everything had started in _Timber_ , and yet, here he was.

A long, exasperated sigh whooshed out of him, his shoulders rising and falling excruciatingly slowly as he inhaled and exhaled. If he wasn't Seifer Almasy, one might possibly note that he was far too young to let out such a world-weary, drained-of-all-motivation-type sigh. Unfortunately, this was the hand that he'd been dealt, so his reaction made perfect sense. No, that was a cop out. This wasn't the hand he'd been _dealt_ , this was the hand he'd _chosen._ Now, he was paying the price for that choice.

Skirted glances from anyone and everyone, a wide berth that people seemed desperate to give him, children running in the opposite direction whenever he walked down the street... _that_ was what he had to face, for the rest of his life.

 _Why don't I just go walk in front of a fuckin' train now, and make shit easier for everyone?_ he thought with an intense scowl.

Boots tapping against stone interrupted his morbid thoughts and he turned, spotting Fujin off in the distance, walking towards him. She was always so quiet and it irked him when she got the jump on him, so after he'd complained to her, she'd started making it a point to walk just a _bit_ heavier when she approached him.

"WELL?" she prompted when she finally stood in front of him.

"Same ol' bullshit," he responded with a shrug.

She glanced down at the ground before gently touching his forearm. "NEXT."

"I dunno, Fuj. This shit is gettin' old. I don't wanna keep walking into all of these stores and have people fuckin' jump into the air when they see me. Every Hyne-damned time."

With a frown, she replied, "NO. DON'T."

"I don't _want_ to give up but...fuck me. Maybe just for today, let's head back," he suggested.

Her face fell and she nodded, sidling up to Seifer as they trekked back to the hotel just down the street. As they walked in silence, he kept his gaze trained on the buildings in the distance, trying to imply to Fujin that he didn't want to talk. She kept glancing up at him from underneath her lashes, her eye so obviously filled with concern for him that he almost cringed at the sight.

He didn't want pity.

 _Perhaps that is all you deserve,_ she whispered in his mind.

At the sound of her insistent voice, he clenched his jaw and sped up, overtaking Fujin. When he was nearly at the end of the block, he heard her clear her throat. With an apologetic glance, he slowed back down and they continued walking towards the hotel, side-by-side.

When they passed by a coffee shop with a quaint outdoor seating area, he caught a glance of someone who looked familiar out of the corner of his eye. A flash of golden hair, the bright, piercing gaze that he remembered all-too well.

He reached up and placed his hand on Fujin's shoulder, asking her to stop. She paused and looked at him as he scanned the small crowd at the cafe.

There. Inside the shop, staring back at him with her arms crossed over her tiny frame, with her trademark glasses perched on the perfect bridge of her nose, stood Quistis Trepe.

"The hell?" he mumbled under his breath.

"WHAT?"

Seifer hesitated for a second before replying, "Nothing. Hey, head on to the hotel. I'll meet you there in a few, okay?"

Fujin stared up at him, refusing to move until he looked back down at her. Finally, he faced her again and nodded, nudging her toward the hotel none-too gently. She huffed in annoyance before turning and walking away.

His eyes followed her until she disappeared into the sliding glass doors of the Timber Hotel. Once she was no longer visible, he turned back to the cafe and saw that Quistis had sat down at the table by the window, her eyes still fixed on him.

He let out a sigh and stared back at her for a minute, almost as if he was testing her resolve—or maybe it was his own—before giving in and finally heading for the door. Reaching out and wrapping his fingers around the handle, he pushed it open and a jovial little bell tinkled his arrival. The side of his nose scrunched up in distaste and he glared upwards at it before turning right and ambling over to the table.

Without a word, he pulled the chair opposite from Quistis out and plopped down into the creaky wicker. He interlaced his fingers and placed his hands in his lap, his right leg jiggling up and down as anxiety spiked through him. After what felt like a few agonizingly long minutes, he looked up at her.

Her expression was neutral, but her shrewd eyes were locked on his face. She studied him intently, as if she were trying to gauge his reaction to seeing her and how he'd been doing since the trial, without actually verbalizing anything.

Defiantly, he stared back at her, the muscle in his jaw twitching. Something about the way she carried herself pissed him off—it always had. She tried to look so perfect, so unassuming. He knew better. He knew that she only _appeared_ to be that way because she didn't know how else to act. She hid behind her cool, collected demeanor that didn't reflect her actual emotions in the slightest.

It irritated him. He wanted her to act like a normal human being, like a normal woman who'd rise to his bait and snipe back at him. So like always, he lashed out.

"What the hell was the point of coming to see me, if you aren't gonna say shit?" he needled.

Quistis tilted her head at him and the corner of her mouth twitched upwards for a brief moment. She stayed silent for a few seconds before responding, "Because I have to, remember?"

To that, Seifer didn't say anything in return. So, they ended up sitting across from each other, surrounded by more silence.

He lifted his hand and propped it up on the table, tapping his fingers against the rounded, white marble surface. Not wanting to be the first one to back down, he kept his eyes trained on her pale ones, his mouth set into a firm line.

As seconds turned into minutes, he tapped his fingers faster and faster, gritting his teeth harder and harder. Eventually, he threw his hands up and shouted, "Fine! You win! The hell do you want?!"

The cafe fell silent as the patrons warily glanced over their shoulders at him, trying to gauge whether or not now would be a good time to leave the cafe. When Seifer didn't follow-up with anything else, they all turned back to their companions, their incessant chattering filling the room again—albeit hesitantly.

Quistis uncrossed her arms and reached down into a bag at her feet. She pulled out a file folder and placed it on the table in front of him, tapping it once with her perfectly manicured nail.

"The fuck is this?" he demanded.

"Your reinstatement papers."

" 'Scuse you?"

She sighed, obviously frustrated with his attitude. Glancing away out the window and taking a few deep breaths, she tried again. "Do you remember the stipulations of your pardon?"

"Some bullshit about checkin' in with a Garden lackey every few months. Stay out of trouble. You know, the usual," he quipped.

"Yes, well... _I_ would be that 'Garden lackey', as you so eloquently put it. This is me checking in on you."

"Oh, I get it now. 'You have to', right?"

"Exactly. Open the folder, Seifer. Read the papers," she instructed.

"And if I don't wanna?"

Another sigh. "Frankly, I don't care if you don't want to. Do it anyway."

"Wow, not even my Instructor anymore and you're _still_ demanding as fuck. You boss your boyfriends around like that, too?" he sniped, a cocky grin spreading across his face. Whenever anyone mentioned her love life—or what he suspected was a severe lack of existence of her love life—she got extra testy. That'd been his intent, and now that the bait was laid, he was just waiting for the response.

She narrowed her eyes at him and muttered, "Seifer?"

One side of his mouth lifted up in a smirk. "What?"

"Shut up."

He chuckled and pulled the file folder closer to him, flipping open the top cover and lifting up the first sheet of paper.

' _Balamb Garden - SeeD Cadet Application'_

He stared at it in disbelief for a minute, turning over the sheet to look at the underside, only to realize that it was blank. "Trepe, what the fuck is this shit?" he demanded.

Quistis reached up and pushed her glasses farther up on her nose. When she replied, her voice consisted of the cool tone he was used to hearing her use whenever she gave the class their lectures. "Like I mentioned when you first sat down, those are your reinstatement papers."

"I hate to sound like Chicken-wuss here but..I don't fuckin' understand."

As if she'd been expecting his reaction, she immediately launched into a play-by-play of the situation. "The Headmaster and the Commander have decided that it is in Garden's best interest if you remain under their _close_ supervision," she explained.

"Close meaning right under their fuckin' noses?" he pressed.

"Precisely."

"That's fucked up," he spat. "The whole point of me gettin' a pardon was so I could go back out and I don't know, be a good little boy in 'society' or whatever shit people say. How is draggin' me back to Garden gonna do that?"

"It's not. This isn't for _your_ benefit, Seifer. This is for Garden's benefit. You're too much of a liability. They don't trust you to run around without supervision," she replied.

"Well, aren't you supposed to be 'checkin' up on me' every six months, or some shit?"

"Yes. But does it really surprise you when I say I have no desire to do that?" she retorted.

"No, fuck this. I ain't goin' back," he stated, shoving his chair back as he shot to his feet.

In one smooth, rehearsed motion, Quistis pulled the file back to her, rising to her feet as well, bag already in hand. When she spoke, instead of the cold tone he'd heard before, her voice was now silk and honey. "What a pity," she commented, obviously not at all disappointed in his choice.

"Fuck you, Trepe. I'm outta here." He whirled around and yanked the door open, causing it to slam into the wall, rattling the inset windowpane. The cafe owner glared at Seifer as he stalked out into the street, and Quistis nodded apologetically to him before she trailed after Seifer.

Before he could get too far, she called out, "I guess I'll see you in six months then, Seifer. Good luck on your...job hunting."

Seifer continued to stomp away from her, refusing to look back over his shoulder to see whether she was still standing on the sidewalk. He _would not_ give her the satisfaction.

A lot of people set him off, that wasn't a secret. But his former instructor took the top spot. When it came to her, his anger was practically instant. Every time he threw an insult her way, she'd just absorb the blow, her expression remaining neutral. That frustrated him so much, that he wanted to just throw his hands up in the air and be done with her. If he was stuck seeing her every six months, stuck with the constant anticipation of their next meeting, he swore it was going to drive him to drink.

 _Men are such fools. Following a beautiful woman to the ends of the planet, regardless of what she might ask him to do . . . it is ridiculous,_ Ultimecia's voice commented.

 _You're one to talk! I'm_ not _chasin' Trepe around! Shut the fuck up and leave me alone, you crazy ass bitch!_ he mentally shouted back at her.

 _Do you harbor . . ._ feelings _for this woman, my Knight? Has another woman claimed your heart?_

Even though she wasn't real—or at least, he hoped that was the case—and was no longer alive to haunt him, he could still hear the bitterness in her voice. She was angry that she was no longer at the forefront of his thoughts, day and night.

He chose to ignore her last comment and ran his fingers through his hair, stalking through the hotel's front doors. As he climbed the stairs, his frustration reached its limit and he immediately turned back around, heading over to the bar instead.

"Fuckin' bitch," he muttered under his breath.

At this point, he was unsure whether he was talking about Quistis, or the sorceress that was stuck inside of his mind.

* * *

 **Six** _ **more**_ **months later.**

Shades of gold and burnt orange filtered in through the cafe's picturesque front window. The glass cup that Seifer had his fingers wrapped around caught the colored rays, twisting and contorting the beams of light into an iridescent prism.

It was six-fifteen and the sun was nearly finished setting, which made Seifer anxious. He tapped his fingers against the hollow glass as his eyes watched the moving second hand of the clock that lay against the far wall.

 _Tick...tick...tick…_

It was driving him insane. Once he'd noticed the annoying sound, it amplified. After that, he was done for. He couldn't get the incessant noise out of his mind.

The constant ticking was nearly as bad as Ultimecia's grating voice. In the past six months though, she'd spoken to him less and less, until finally, _finally_ , she fell silent. Since the last time he'd seen Quistis, Ultimecia had expressed her displeasure with him multiple times. He never 'responded' back, and eventually, she stopped talking to him completely.

It was bliss.

Except...part of him—though it was twisted and messed up, and he knew that—actually felt _disappointed_ that she'd left him behind. At first, he'd been worried that he'd never get rid of her. Now, he was kind of wishing she'd pipe up and saying something to him—anything. Just to remind him of what had happened in the past; to remind him of what he'd gained and lost, of his mistakes.

It was masochistic, and fucked up.

Unfortunately, at the moment, she'd been replaced with the _ticking of a damn clock_. He didn't know which one was worse.

The bell that hung on the cafe's front door jingled and he whirled around in his seat, twisting his spine even more by bracing his hand against the chair's wicker back. Some redhead and her scrawny-ass boyfriend had wandered into the cafe and Seifer scoffed at the sight, before he faced forward again.

 _What a tool,_ he thought as he lifted his cup and swallowed the last sip of his iced tea. The irony of his statement was lost on him, at the moment.

The door jingled again and this time when he turned, he saw her familiar flaxen hair glinting in the fading sunlight. Without meeting his eyes or offering an apology for being so late, she glided over to where he sat—the same table they'd sat at six months before, actually—and pulled out the chair opposite from him, sinking down into it with a slight wince.

Once she was settled, she looked up and met his eyes, her expression tight and her lips drawn into a thin line. They stared at each other for a few seconds before his gaze drifted down, snapping to the deep and obviously fresh cut across her cheek. An unexpected wave of anger washed over him at the offending sight. He was _pissed_ that something—possibly some _one_ —had dared to _touch_ her, to hurt her in any way.

In one swift motion, he leaned up and reached out, running his thumb along the puckered, tender cut. She sucked in a breath and pulled away, and he drew his hand back into his lap.

"The hell happened to your face, Trepe?" he demanded.

"It's not important. Sorry I'm late," Quistis offered.

"Like hell it isn't important! That'll probably leave a scar, and then what will you do with your modeling career?" he quipped, trying to play off his anger as a joke.

She'd obviously had a long day, because for once in all of the years that he'd known her, she broke her cool demeanor, and rolled her eyes at his response. He took a few deep breaths, bringing himself in check before he chuckled once, the sound short and brief, and the corners of her lips quirked upwards.

After regaining her composure, she crossed her legs and mirrored the motion with her arms, propping her right arm up on her left wrist. "So...How have things been?"

"You know, same ol' bullshit. People o' Timber hate my guts and I have yet to find a—" He lifted his hands and made quotation marks when he finished, "'career that calls to me'."

"I've noticed that you've been having some trouble with your job search."

"How would you even know that? You're all the way back at Garden."

"Please, don't insult me. Of _course_ I know," she responded.

He crossed his arms, pulling at the shoulders of his leather jacket. He'd never been particularly fond of leather in the first place, but fall in Timber got pretty chilly, and Fujin had insisted that leather would be the 'best protection'. He kind of felt like a poser—like the kind of guy who pretended to be in a motorcycle gang but hadn't ever gotten on one in his entire life.

"Yeah, well, tough to get a job when everyone in the world hates you," he mumbled as he looked out the window, watching the sun finally set behind the mountain range.

Quistis opened her mouth to retort but opted for silence instead, closing her mouth and leaning back in the chair. She studied him for a moment, trying to assess his mood. Eventually, she hesitantly spoke up. "Have you...thought about our offer, since I saw you last?"

He scoffed and without looking back at her, replied, "I don't get why you're pushin' so hard for me to come back. It's not like anyone there wants me around—and don't say that you do. I _know_ you don't and I don't wanna hear your bullshit excuses."

"That's not true," she rebutted.

After letting out a sigh, he turned to her and said, "What did I just say? There's nothin' for me there. I don't plan on _ever_ setting foot in Garden again."

"If you'd read the document, you would've seen that the application and the written exam are just formalities. We, along with the headmaster, all know that by now, you are more than capable of being a SeeD."

"Do you? Like when you mentioned at the trial that I'd failed three times?" he snapped.

"That wasn't a lie, Seifer. You _did_ fail three times. But this time is different. You just have to fill out and sign the form. You just have to come back!" Quistis pressed.

"Why the fuck do you care anyway? You've always hated my guts. Why are _you_ pushin' so hard for me to return? Just 'cause it's your job?"

Quistis looked down and ran her fingers along the top of her left hand—it looked like she was trying to swipe nonexistent crumbs off of her skin, or something along those lines.

After a few moments of silence, in a quiet voice she replied, "I always felt like I failed you...as your instructor, I mean. All those times that you lashed out, or intentionally disobeyed orders, I could've stepped in and tried to guide you. I think...that if you _did_ return, you'd have a chance to do things on your own terms; show people that you _are_ capable of doing what you trained so diligently, for nearly half of your life, to do."

He stared at her intently until she glanced up and locked eyes with him. Drumming his fingers against his bicep, he asked, "So what you're sayin' is, you want me to gain my redemption?"

Quistis nodded. "Yes, Seifer. As hard as it is for you to believe, I actually _do_ want that for you."

"Why were you late today?" he asked offhand.

Quistis blinked at his sudden and unexpected change in topic, and she stuttered slightly when she first responded. "I-I...I was on a mission this morning. It took a bit longer than we expected, so I had to rush straight here after I got back to Garden."

"That how you got the nasty on your cheek?" he continued, gesturing to the cut he'd touched earlier.

Absentmindedly, she reached up and brushed her slender fingers across the wound. "Yes, it was."

Seifer grunted in response and looked back out the window again, though the view was no longer of the setting sun. Now, the streetlights had turned on, and bright haloes of illumination peppered the streets. From inside the cafe, he could see the moths and gnats that had gathered around the lights, their minuscule silhouettes lit up by the glow of the night.

A minute or two passed before Quistis shifted in her seat. Mere seconds later, she was pushing back her chair and rising to her feet, looking down at Seifer. In a firm voice, she stated, "Well...think about it? I'll see you again in another six months."

Without waiting for confirmation, she ambled over to the door and pulled it open, closing it softly behind her once she'd stepped outside. Seifer watched her walk down the street, her posture upright and rigid, ever the prim and proper woman.

Was that what he'd become if he rejoined Garden's ranks? A cookie cutter type of guy, just like the soldier beside him? Who in turn, was just like the soldier beside _him_? Was that what he wanted out of his life?

At that train of thought, flashbacks of the past six months played through his mind like a movie. The humiliation of being turned away, time and time again, at every establishment he inquired at for a job—any job; his solitary nights, spent in the dark, silent hotel room that he currently called home; the fact that he had _no one else_ in his life but Fujin and Raijin, who would eventually leave him behind in pursuit of their own version of happiness.

Was _that_ what he wanted for the rest of his life? To end up alone?

On the flip side, crawling back to Garden would mean that he'd be admitting his faults, his wrongdoings...his mistakes. Cid and Squall were dangling the finite, fragile strands of a possible redemption above his head and like the good dog that he was, he was jumping up, trying to catch them. Was that what he really wanted? To take hold of those strands by the tips of his fingers and hold onto it forever? Did he truly want to accept the olive branch they were holding out to him? Did he want another shot at the life he _could have_ had?

With the answer to his existential question, he shot to his feet and bolted to the door, wrenching it open. He sprinted after Quistis, who was already almost past the hotel by now. The sound of his quick footsteps must have reached her ears because she turned, swiveling her body halfway around to watch him.

When he finally stood before her, he bent over at the waist and tried to catch his breath, holding up a finger in front of her face as his chest heaved. She raised an eyebrow at him in a silent question, and when he could breathe without feeling like his lungs were on fire, he straightened.

His cerulean eyes locked onto her pale, icy ones. Quistis tilted her head back, tipping her chin up at him. In a strong voice, Seifer stated, "Fine, I'll do it. I'm coming back to Garden with you."

The corners of her lips curled upwards in a surprisingly genuine smile and she replied, "I was hoping you'd say that."

* * *

 **One year later.**

"Come on, ya lazy asses! Pick up your Hyne-damned feet! My grandmother could run faster than you!" Seifer bellowed across the gymnasium at the cadets who were currently sprinting around the room.

He stood in the center of the gym, pacing at a leisurely pace as his eyes swept back and forth, inspecting the cadets as they trained. He was a harsh instructor, and if asked, he'd readily admit that. But he liked to think that he was doing the cadets under his tutelage a favor; the real world was a shitstorm, and that shitstorm did not wait for you to adjust. You were thrown in and you either stepped up and survived, or you failed and met your untimely, but well-deserved, death. At least, that's how Seifer saw it.

Sure, he'd never been good at answering questions on paper or following instructions, but when it came down to the nitty gritty of SeeD's purpose and their missions, he excelled at getting the job done and staying the fuck alive. He intended on making sure each and every single kid who passed through his class understood that, and the reality of what awaited them beyond Garden's walls.

The heavy, metal double doors on the far wall of the gymnasium opened, and the hollow sound of heels clicking across the lacquered floor reached his ears. He turned and spotted Quistis, who was strutting towards the ring of cadets circling around him.

"At attention for Instructor Trepe, you pathetic excuses for SeeD cadets!" he shouted.

Every single cadet in the room snapped their heels together, bringing their hands in front of their faces in a salute as they all spun around and faced Quistis. She faltered slightly in her steps at the unexpected display of discipline—especially considering these were all Seifer's students. The irony was not lost on her, and she raised her eyebrow at Seifer as she neared. He answered her silent communication with a mock salute and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Alright, keep running!" he commanded the cadets.

Their sneakers squeaked against the floor when they started moving again, and he looked over at his fellow instructor, meeting Quistis' eyes. "What's up?" he prompted.

Starting off on a tangent, she turned away from him and watched the cadets circle the room. "I'm surprised, Seifer. You keep them on a rather tight leash."

"Yeah, well...speaking from experience, that's what I gotta do."

She chuckled under her breath and faced him again before saying, "There's a field exam this Friday. Will any of your cadets be ready by then?"

His eyes flickered over to focus on a few of the older cadets in the gathering. "Yeah, a few. They gotta be fifteen to take the exam, right? I've got a couple that age." He paused before finishing with a sidenote. "Damn, they're so young. I remember being fifteen; it fuckin' sucked."

Quistis tilted her head at his response and rebutted, "You took the exam right after your birthday, if I recall. What's wrong with being fifteen?"

"Didn't say there was anything _wrong_ with being fifteen. It's just fuckin' _young_. They haven't seen shit. Hell, they just barely went through puberty! They practically haven't _done_ anything yet! Plus, the first field exam blows. It's baptism by fire, you know?" he replied.

She nodded in agreement to his statement, a pensive look on her face. Seifer figured she was probably reflecting on her own field exam. It was funny, he'd never asked how her first exam went, but she'd been present for every single one of his.

After a few seconds of silence, she lifted her arm and studied the paper she had clipped to the board she was cradling in the crook of her elbow. "What are their ID numbers? I'll mark them down so I can get them sorted into teams beforehand."

"Ah hell, I don't remember that shit. I've got the roster back at my desk. I'll get them to you later."

She sighed, pushing her glasses up before locking eyes with him again. "Don't forget. Also, make sure you accompany the cadets you're nominating for the exam to the Fire Cavern, _before_ Friday. It's a pre-req."

He waved his hands in the air at her before exclaiming, "I know, I know!"

Even though he'd been a fellow instructor for a few months now, she still felt the need to nag him about his job. Like she didn't think he could do it right and still needed her guidance. Perhaps a small part of that might be true, but he didn't want her to think he was forever incapable of doing _any_ thing on his own.

Because that sure as hell wasn't true.

They stood beside each other for a few more minutes, watching the cadets follow the same path around the gym over and over again. Seifer shifted his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly nervous. Every time he'd seen her over the past month, he'd been itching to ask her something that he never could seem to find the balls to actually say.

Ever since the last time he'd seen her in Timber, when he'd told her he'd return to Garden with her, she'd been a constant in his thoughts. The image of her smile when he'd said yes, the way her hair had caught the setting sun's rays, glistening in the warm glow. The way an uncontrollable surge of anger had risen within him when he saw the cut across her cheek, knowing that someone or something had ruined her perfect skin.

At first, he'd fought the unfamiliar and uncomfortable feeling, not wanting to admit what was so obvious now in hindsight. After they'd returned to Garden, somewhere around one week later, Fujin and Raijin had cornered him in his dorm, demanding to know why he'd been acting so weird.

* * *

 _Seifer reached out and pushed the button to open his door, intending on heading up to the headmaster's office to turn in his completed reinstatement forms. Once the door slid open, he took a half-step forward before he noticed a massive body was blocking his path. He glanced up and locked eyes with Raijin, who was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, frowning at Seifer._

" _Intervention time, ya know?" his friend demanded._

" _Intervention? The hell you talkin' about, Raij?" Seifer replied._

 _Raijin didn't answer. Instead, he reached out and shoved Seifer backwards, pushing him back inside of his dorm._

" _What the fuck, man?" Seifer demanded._

 _Fujin followed after Raijin, closing the door behind her. She pointed to Seifer's couch, her eyes stern and demanding. Seifer stood with his hands on his hips and when he didn't move after a few seconds, she pointed again, her face contorting into a glare._

 _She had always been good at strong-arming him into doing what she wanted. He let out a sharp exhale and ambled over to the couch, sitting down heavily on the cushion. "What the hell is this about, you two?"_

" _STRANGE."_

" _Yeah, you've been actin' super weird since we got back, ya know? What's going on with you?"_

" _Nothing's going on. I've been busy with shit. I gotta turn this stuff in so I can finally become a SeeD. You guys understand what that means to me, right?" Seifer pressed._

 _Fujin and Raijin looked at each other and nodded, before Fujin said, "OF COURSE."_

" _Yeah, we get it, man. But that's not what we're talking about. You've been...real quiet lately and like, I dunno. You space out a lot. Is everything okay? Are you still hearing..._ her _...voice, ya know?" Raijin questioned, rubbing the back of his neck. He was obviously uncomfortable at bringing up Ultimecia, without Seifer inciting the topic._

" _No, man. I haven't heard her for a while now. I'm fine, I swear," Seifer reassured._

" _LIE."_

" _I'm not lyin', Fuj! I just...I've got a lot on my mind, I guess," he offered._

 _Raijin shuffled in place before he asked, "Is it...Does it have to do with Quistis?"_

 _Seifer's gaze shot up to Raijin's and he jumped to his feet, immediately defensive. "What_ about _Quistis?"_

" _Nothing, nothing! We just—I mean—You've been talkin' to her a lot lately, ya know? And Fuj says when we were younger, you talked about her a lot and stuff. Just figured maybe you, ya know, liked her or somethin'."_

" _That's fuckin' ridiculous, Raij," Seifer retorted, his eyes falling to the floor as he remained standing, his clenched hands at his sides._

 _Fujin piped up and quietly said, "Seifer, it's not a bad thing. If you have feelings for Quistis, it means you're moving on, you're learning to be normal again. You, more than anyone else we know, deserve to be happy. If she makes you happy, then we're fine with it. We just want you to talk to us."_

 _Seifer looked up and met Fujin's red eye, holding her gaze steadily for a few seconds before he muttered, "I don't hate being around her, I guess...I dunno."_

" _I KNEW IT, YA KNOW?" Raijin shouted._

 _Fujin swiftly kicked him in the shin and Seifer rolled his eyes before he doubled over in laughter, as his friend hopped around the living area of Seifer's dorm, howling in pain._

* * *

The memory made him chuckle and he ran his hand down his face, letting out a long sigh.

 _Shit man, don't be a pussy! Fujin told you to go for it, so go for it! Fuck!_

"Hey, Trepe," he offered as an opening line.

She faced him and didn't say anything, waiting for him to finish what he'd started to say. He cleared his throat and said, "You busy tomorrow night?"

She glanced to the side and lowered her eyebrows in thought. "Tomorrow? It's Tuesday. I always schedule quizzes on Tuesdays so I'll probably be grading for most of the night. Why do you ask?"

"You'll have to take a break and eat dinner sometime, yeah?"

"...Yes. I do have to eat, Seifer," she deadpanned.

"I _know_ that." _She isn't makin' this easy on me, is she?_ "Wanna grab a bite to eat when you take a break?"

"Where? At the cafeteria? I could probably—"

He interrupted her and said, "No, in Balamb or something. At a real restaurant, with real fuckin' food."

She blinked at him as if she didn't understand. "As in...a _date_?"

"I wasn't gonna call it that but...I guess. Whatever. If you want to, I mean," he stumbled. _Fuck, I sound like a prepubescent dickwad_.

Quistis stared at him, her forehead creased slightly as she pinched her eyebrows together. Without replying to his invitation, she pivoted on her heel and walked away from him, calling out over her shoulder, "I'll talk to you later, Seifer."

 _Fuckin' great. She seemed pissed. Now she probably thinks I was makin' fun of her or something_.

Her brisk, sure steps carried her back in the opposite direction and the cadets halted in place, allowing Quistis to pass through them before they closed ranks and continued around the gym. Seifer jerked his head to the side, kicking himself mentally for even saying anything as he watched her retreating figure. Once she walked out the door, he sighed again and resumed his pacing, opting to study his students intently instead of focusing on his failed attempt at asking _Quistis Trepe_ on a date. Talk about crashing and burning.

Before he'd made a fool of himself, she _had_ said something that had been accurate. The SeeD Field Exam was no joke, and he intended to ensure that his cadets understood that. Friday would come sooner than any of them they expected.

* * *

Four days later, Seifer stood beside Quistis in front of the Garden Directory, dressed in his freshly pressed and starched SeeD uniform, pulling on the golden lapels of his suit jacket. Every time he tried to adjust the jacket's stifling collar, it just popped back into place.

Quistis remained as poised and refined as always, and glanced sidelong at him with irritation. "Will you just stand still?" she chided.

"I can't," he retorted, before continuing. "I feel like this fuckin' thing is trying to suffocate me."

She let out an exasperated sigh and muttered, "I'm beginning to regret suggesting that you be allowed to come along."

"I _have_ to come along; _my_ students are going, remember?" he replied, mocking her superior tone in a nasally, high-pitched imitation of her voice on the last word.

She shot a sharp glare at him before looking down at her clipboard, her lips moving in silence as she read the cadet's names to herself one more time. The list wasn't that long, but she didn't look back up at him again, and Seifer suspected that was her way of pointedly ignoring him.

 _What-fuckin'-ever,_ he thought, not willing to expend the energy to bicker with her just yet. It was too damn early in the morning. Besides, the whole 'boys make fun of the girls they like' idiom was really only applicable to kids. He didn't want to scare her off completely by being an absolute, total dick.

A few minutes later, the first cadet arrived and swiftly saluted Seifer and Quistis. Quistis returned the gesture, but Seifer just offered a languid nod before he indicated to the bench along the half-wall that lined the lobby. The cadet sank down onto the bench and after that, the rest of the cadets continued to trickle in over the span of the next few minutes.

Once they were all present, the elevator behind the directory dinged its arrival, and Headmaster Cid and Squall ambled out of it, making their way down the stairs and over to the group that had gathered in front of the directory.

The Headmaster cleared his throat and began. "Good morning, SeeD cadets! Welcome to the start of your first, and hopefully only, SeeD field exam. I am sure that you are aware that the field exam is _not_ to be taken lightly. We've had cadets perish in the past, and I feel the need to remind you to all be on your guard, and remain on your toes. In addition to ensuring that you stay _alive_ , you will also need to complete all of your mission's goals, follow your orders, and get the job done—that is what SeeD is known for, and we are expecting you to uphold our reputation."

Cid turned to Squall and held his hand out in front of the younger man. "Commander Leonhart, a few words of encouragement for our cadets?"

At Cid's indication that Squall would be speaking, many of the cadets straightened and leaned forward, eagerly awaiting what they obviously hoped would be words of inspiration from one of the 'six heroes' of the Second Sorceress War. Squall was as equally _not_ excited to be put on the spot and even less excited at the prospect of having to connect with the cadets on a personal-enough level to motivate them.

Squall stepped forward and cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest before dropping them to his sides instead. "As the Headmaster stated, this isn't a joke. The field exam is a live mission—your _first_ mission—with great risks and a whole lot of pressure. Many choke, others intentionally disobey orders and do what they think is best for their own agenda, not the mission." At that, Squall glanced at Seifer out of the corner of his eye, to which Seifer mouthed back 'bite me.'

Without reacting to Seifer's bait, Squall continued. "However, if you can rise above the odds that are stacked against you and ensure that the mission is a success, then you prove to all who might doubt you that you _deserve_ to be a SeeD, that you deserve to be a member of one of the world's greatest military forces. Don't let us down."

Squall stepped back to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the Headmaster, and that's when Quistis advanced and announced, "Okay everyone, that's our cue! Head over to the parking garage and climb into a car. We're heading out to Balamb to board the ships, where you'll be briefed."

The cadets saluted Cid and Squall and filed down the hall towards the parking garage. Once they'd passed, Quistis trailed after them and Seifer moved to follow her, but paused in front of Squall.

A slow, sardonic grin spread across his face and he commented, "Nice speech, Puberty Boy. You've come a long way."

Squall rolled his eyes and replied, "Come on, Almasy. For once in your life, be serious. This isn't a joke."

"I know it isn't, shit. I was giving you a compliment."

"A highly sarcastic one. Go on. Don't screw it up like last time," Squall reminded him, before jerking his head towards the garage.

"Yeah, fuck you, too." Out of the corner of his eye, Seifer spotted Cid's reprimanding expression at his language and muttered, "Er, sorry Cid."

His adoptive father— _Fuck, that's weird to say_ —simply shook his head in response, as if he'd come to terms with the fact that Seifer would never change, SeeD or not. In a firm voice, Cid stated, "You'll do fine, son."

Seifer had already been walking away when he heard Cid's words, and he glanced over his shoulder at the headmaster, his eyebrows raised in surprise. An encouraging smile graced the older man's face and Seifer nodded gratefully at him in response, before jogging after Quistis and the cadets.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived in Balamb. Once they were parked by the docks, they all clambered out of the car and traipsed over to the docked transport ships. The cadets separated and piled into the sleek vessels and Quistis paused before boarding, blocking the gangway leading over to the ships.

"What now, Trepe?" Seifer inquired, with less animosity than usual.

"I just wanted to say good luck on your first time as an instructor on a field exam, Seifer," Quistis offered.

He lifted his finger and wiggled it back and forth in front of her face as he tsked at her. "Instructor, we've had this talk before. What did I say about wishing me good luck?"

A playful smile teased at the corners of her rosy lips and she replied, "Then just like last time—good luck, Seifer." With that, she turned and trekked up to her transport vessel.

Seifer grinned and at the last minute, called out, "You think about that date yet, Trepe?"

She paused in the opening and looked back at him, a surprising smile gracing her features as she replied, "Concentrate on the mission," and pulled the heavy door shut behind her.

Seifer scoffed, though it was filled with good-natured amusement rather than irritation. He walked up the plank leading to his own ship and followed suit, closing the door behind him before trekking farther into the main section where the cadets were seated.

Once he stood before the holographic screen that listed the mission objectives, he called out, "Alright, suckers. Listen up! Your mission is to make sure the President of Esthar is as safe as a baby cradled in its momma's arms! Sidenote: the Pres is our Commander's old man, so make sure you don't fuck up!

The Pres is heading over to Fisherman's Horizon for some boring ass peace treaty summit, so our job is to escort him from the station, to the podium, and back. Again, don't fuck up. Now, sit tight and keep your mouths shut; it's one long ride over to FH, and I don't wanna hear your pointless chatter!"

* * *

A couple of hours later, the engines of the transport vessel finally powered down, indicating that they'd docked at FH. Seifer rose to his feet and brushed past the two cadets that were in his way, traipsing over to the ship's door.

He leaned over into the main section of the ship again and beckoned for the cadets to follow him, and they shot up off of their seats, following their instructor. He wrapped his fingers around the metal handle and looked over his shoulder at the two kids behind him.

The darkness of the ship hid the majority of their young faces in the shadows, and Seifer was struck again by how ridiculous it was that they were making _children_ follow some downright outrageous orders: shooting people, cutting people's heads off, interrogating suspects, saving the world.

It was batshit crazy, and here he was, leading them into the fire.

"Alright, asshats. Remember what the Headmaster said: stay on your toes, keep your eyes open, and don't fucking die. Get the job done and then we go home," he stated before pushing the door up and open, leading the cadets out into the city of Fisherman's Horizon.

* * *

This was supposed to be an easy mission: get in, and get right back out.

By the end of the night, he was supposed to have been relaxing in his room back at Garden, feet kicked up on the couch, bottle of beer in hand. He should've known that's not how shit would go. That's never how things went, especially not for him.

His team had been assigned to pick up Laguna from the station and escort him over to the stage at the town's centermost area, right by Mayor Dobe's house. Things had gone well, much to Seifer's surprise. Apparently, that thought was premature because as soon as one of his cadets—Cadet Samara—had approached Laguna, ready to escort him off the stage, a shot rang out and the bullet pierced her forehead, blowing out chunks of brain and shattered fragments of her skull onto the ground.

Everyone hit the deck as shrill screams of panic from the frenzied crowd rose into the air, and chaos ensued. Cadet Wilson had crawled over to Laguna, draping his body over the President as they continued making their way towards the edge of the stage. Once they slid onto the ground and took cover, Wilson threw a Protect spell over Laguna and passed him over to Quistis, who had taken over escort duty.

Obviously, things had escalated beyond a field exam rather quickly.

Quistis waved her hand insistently at a couple of her cadets, who sprinted over to her side, crouched low to hide behind as much cover as possible. With silent gestures, she pointed to both of them and herself, then to Laguna, then over the iridescent blue dome that they were in, in the direction of the station. Both of the cadets nodded and armed themselves with their respective weapons, casting a variety of defensive spells over the entire group before they set off.

Seifer and Wilson fell in behind Quistis and her team, providing cover and back up, should they need it. The unfortunate truth of the situation was that, in order to get out of the concave dome that surrounded Mayor Dobe's home, they had to climb the lengthy and incredibly exposed staircase that served as both the only entrance and the only exit.

Before they began to ascend, Quistis looked back over her shoulder and met Seifer's eyes, her expression alone sufficient enough to communicate her displeasure at their chances to him. He set his jaw and nodded once, the motion firm, and she returned the gesture, placing her foot on the first step. Slowly, they crept up the staircase, trying to remain hidden underneath and between the metal sides of the railing.

Cadet Wilson's weapon of choice was a rifle, and he kept his arms locked in position, his eyes scanning the edges of the dome around them for any sudden movements. Out of the blue, another shot cracked through the air and they all hit the ground; one of Quistis' cadets threw themselves over Laguna for added protection. The bullet bounced off of one of the reflective panels just beside the railing, shattering the glass, and Quistis' head twisted around to look at the debris.

With a quick, two-fingered gesture, she sped up their pace, clambering up the stairs at full-speed as she counted on the shooter taking the time to reload. The unexpected and sudden boom of Wilson's pistol rang out and Seifer crouched instinctively, expecting a return shot. Instead, up above on the main level of FH, he spotted a body falling out of a second-story window.

"Holy shit, Wilson. I think you snagged the guy," Seifer observed.

"I believe so, sir!" Wilson replied.

Quistis turned around and shouted, "Too soon to celebrate, cadets! Stay on your guard and let's get our client out of here and on his way!"

The group sprinted up the remainder of the staircase and once they reached the top, Quistis whirled around and addressed Seifer. "Get back to the ships with your cadet. We'll take Laguna to the station and send him off. We'll meet back at Balamb," she instructed, before turning away from him.

"Trepe, wait! I'm not fuckin' leaving you behind!" he called out.

"You don't have a choice, Seifer! Go! That's an order!" she shouted over her shoulder.

"You can't order me around! We're the same rank!"

"JUST GO!" she yelled, gesturing frantically towards the docks before she turned back around, rushing over to the station with her cadets and Laguna.

"Fuck, she better not fuckin' die…" Seifer trailed off and after grabbing Wilson, the two of them hurried back to the transport vehicles at the town's docks. They were held up by the ancient, infuriating mechanical lift that carried them down to the water, and Seifer paced back and forth as he ran his fingers through his hair, stressed beyond belief and completely disagreeing with Quistis' call—as usual.

Wilson piped up and asked, "Uh, Instructor Almasy? Was it really okay to leave Instructor Trepe behind like that?"

"I don't fuckin' know! I mean...shit...yeah, probably. She _ordered_ us to leave after all," he spat.

"Yes, she did," Wilson confirmed, before adding, "Sir," as an afterthought.

Finally, the lift reached the bottom and they ran over to their transport vessel. Once they were safely inside, Seifer pulled the door down and secured it, tapping on the side of the hull to indicate to the pilot that they were ready to take-off. The engines powered up and Seifer and Wilson made their way into the seating area, plopping down on the vinyl-covered benches.

He leaned over, bracing his elbows on his knees and lowering his head onto his chest. Wilson tried to speak up and Seifer held his hand out, indicating that he didn't want to talk right now. Wilson acquiesced and sat back, and the two of them traveled back to Balamb in silence.

 _...I fucked up_.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _See you guys August 29th for the fourth and final part!_


	4. Part IV

**_Author's_ _Note:_**

 _This has been quite the journey. At times, figuring out the plot and keeping things consistent was difficult and frustrating. I wanted to make this piece the absolute best that it could be and it was mentally taxing. For the most part though, it was an immense amount of fun. I am extremely happy that I was given the opportunity to take part in a fandom challenge. It has been an experience that I will never forget and I am so proud of the final product._

 _I really hope you guys enjoyed Aftermath, because I know I enjoyed writing it. Exploring the world of FFVIII from Seifer's eyes is always an adventure and this one did not disappoint. Also, for those of you who are Seiftis fans (and know that I am as well), there is some much needed fluff in this chapter to round out all of the angst in the two previous parts._

 _Again, huge thank you to my beta, Arenoptara. Also, I wanted to extend my gratitude to Emerald-Latias for making a lot of very well-founded suggestions on each part. Taking the time to point out things that could be fixed that would strengthen the story, without solicitation, is always an appreciated gesture. So thank you, for helping Aftermath be just _**_that_** _much better._

 _Don't be surprised if you see spin-off pieces—this story created a lot of plot bunnies. Enjoy the fourth and final part, y'all._

* * *

The funeral was a week later.

Booming chords from the depth of the organ's belly reverberated throughout the room, and Seifer felt the vibration deep within his chest. The rich baritone quality of the notes seemed to rattle his bones and penetrate into his soul. He'd never believed in a higher power, but he could see why people attended church. Sometimes, it was nice to have something to believe in when the world liked to throw a whole boatload of shit your way.

Seifer believed that he'd had more than his fair share of life's shit.

Cadet Samara's funeral was over now—had been for about a half hour. Yet, Seifer still remained in the room, his eyes focused on the portrait of her that was propped up on a metal easel. It stood beside the raised surface that her coffin had been perched on, and he couldn't bring himself to look away from her youthful, expressive blue eyes.

Other than Seifer, Fujin and Raijin were the last to leave the room, though they'd stayed more for his benefit than in memory of Samara. After about fifteen minutes, they'd risen from their chairs and Fujin had laid her hand on his shoulder, reassuring him that they'd be there for him if he ever wanted to talk about what had happened—all without saying a single word. He'd nodded his response, and they'd left him alone with his thoughts.

Samara had been an orphan, just like them. There were no family members that he had to inform, no crying mothers he had to comfort. If he had to be honest, it's not like he would've been good at that anyway. That's why the majority of the students at Garden were orphans. It was easier to gamble with your life when there was no one that would miss you once you'd been wiped off the face of the planet.

At the same time though, Seifer couldn't stop thinking about the fact that once the last semblance of life left your eyes, that was it. You were erased from all existence. No one would shed tears of sadness at your death, and no one would grieve at their loss—the loss of _you_ , someone they cared about.

What was the point of living your life if in the end, once you were gone, no one would remember you?

Deep down, Seifer knew that's why he'd gone with Edea. Yes, she'd manipulated his choice, fed off of his desire to be someone important, to be _remembered_ , but she wouldn't have done that if his ambition hadn't already existed. It hadn't been entirely his fault, but it sure as hell hadn't been entirely hers, either.

The door behind him opened, pulling him out of his reverie, and soft footsteps padded against the carpet as someone approached him. Long, slender legs underneath a pin-straight black skirt stepped into his view, and the woman sank down onto the chair beside him, crossing her legs as a long sigh left her.

"What are you still doing in here?" Quistis asked quietly, her voice breaking the melancholy silence that permeated the room.

"Dunno. Didn't want to leave yet," Seifer admitted, his own voice just as low, almost in a whisper.

She nodded and faced forward, her eyes falling on the picture of Samara, up above on the raised platform. They sat there in companionable silence, both of them staring at the girl whose life had ended far too soon. Sadly, because she'd been a SeeD cadet, that was just what was accepted as normal. She'd been doing her job, as so her death was categorized as 'noble', 'justified'.

Whoever believed that bullshit was a heartless son of a bitch—in Seifer's opinion anyway.

A thought crossed his mind and he hesitated for a brief second, before breaking the silence. "Do you ever feel like the shit that happens is your fault?"

Quistis looked at him and studied his side profile for a few seconds before replying, "All the time."

"How the hell do you deal with it?"

Her eyes fell to her lap, where she was fiddling with her own fingers. "I...don't know if I'm the best person to be asking for advice on handling regret and grief, Seifer. I generally don't deal with it at all."

"So what, you bottle everything up?" he asked.

She reluctantly nodded and he commented, "That sounds really fuckin' unhealthy."

An inappropriate chuckle left her and she looked up at him again. "That's what Dr. Kadowaki tells me."

He stared back at her, holding her gaze for a few seconds. "Shit. If you wanna talk, Trepe, I'm here, I guess."

"You guess?" she echoed, a smile teasing at the corners of her lips.

"Yeah, don't go around telling people I told you I don't mind talkin' it out like I'm some kinda pussy but...I am _not_ the kinda guy who can hold this shit in. I'm not Puberty Boy. If I don't let it out, I'm gonna go fuckin' crazy."

She chuckled again and turned away, her gaze fixated on Samara's picture once more. He did the same and a few more silent minutes passed before Quistis spoke again.

"You know...it's not your fault, Seifer. That she died, I mean."

"Like hell it isn't. I recommended her for the exam. I ordered her to get up on that stage. I might as well have been the one to blow her brains out."

"Don't say that," she insisted, as she sharply swiveled around in her seat to look at him head-on. "Whether it had been her, or Wilson, or one of my cadets...you can't blame that on yourself. They understood the risks when they enrolled at Garden. We all do."

Seifer shook his head, his jaw tightly clenched. "I don't buy that."

Quistis sighed and reached out, curling her fingers around Seifer's hand. He looked down, not expecting her to ever touch him voluntarily, let alone try to comfort him. A sarcastic comment bubbled up in his throat as he glanced up and met her eyes, only to have it fizzle out as he saw her serious expression.

"It's not your fault," she reassured again, her voice soft, and gentle.

Much to his own self-hatred, Seifer felt his face contort as a profound wave of grief washed over him. Moisture pooled in his eyes and he quickly looked away, not wanting Quistis to see him in his moment of weakness. He hadn't cried since he was a kid, and Hyne be damned, he wasn't about to do so now.

When he'd returned to Garden and eventually managed to snag an instructor position, he'd never guessed that there was this much pressure. Now, with Cadet Samara's death, the full-force of that knowledge hit him. The cadets were just _kids_ , and these kids' lives rested on _his_ shoulders. Suddenly, he knew why Quistis had pushed him so hard all those years ago. She hadn't wanted to see him fail like _this_. She hadn't wanted to stand over his coffin and mourn over his cold, lifeless body, thinking—no, _knowing_ —that it was all her fault.

As he fought to get his emotions in check, Quistis laid her hand on his cheek, pulling his head back so she could look at him.

He kept his eyes locked on his knees and only when she gently pulled up on his chin did he glance back up at her. Tears were readily streaming down her perfect cheeks and his mouth dropped open in surprise. She'd just finished saying that she kept everything in, much to Dr. Kadowaki's dismay, and yet here she was, baring her soul to him.

"Hyne, just...let it out Seifer. Please don't let me be the only one who's crying right now," she pleaded between soft sobs.

He scoffed and shook his head at her, reaching out to pull her thin frame closer and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She laid her head against his chest, tucked comfortably in the space between his neck and his shoulder, and he could feel her wet tears soaking the front of his uniform jacket.

Now that he knew his own face was hidden from her view, he dared to let a lone tear escape. The single drop rolled down his cheek, signifying his acceptance of the events over the past year—hell, over the past nineteen years. It reached his chin and hovered along the edge of his jaw, before pooling and expanding, and falling down to the floor below.

* * *

 **Two years later - December 22nd**

Streams of confetti exploded in front of his face, showering him in multi-colored pieces of glitter-infested pastel paper.

Once the offending cloud of an overabundance of colors had fallen to the floor, Seifer glared at the petite brunette who was hopping around in front of him, her arms outstretched in the air.

"Hooray! I managed to surprised you! Happy birthday, Seifer!" Selphie cheered.

They were standing near the entrance of the cafeteria and nearly everyone in the room was looking at him, eyeing the stray pieces of confetti that still rested on his shoulders. He could practically hear their laughter at his expense and he tightened his hands into fists as his glare intensified.

"Selphie. What. The. Hell," he grumbled, from between clenched teeth.

Selphie giggled—she fuckin' _giggled_ —at him and spun around, indicating to the booth over in the far corner of the cafeteria where everyone in the original gang sat.

"Look! We've been waiting for you!"

"What is this shit, a surprise birthday party or something?" he spat.

"Yes! That's exactly what it is! Come on, come on!" she cheered, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and tugging him along like some kind of dog.

He yanked his arm out of her grasp and, unfazed, she continued to skip ahead of him, leading the way to the table. For whatever inexplicable reason, he trudged along after her, his face twisted into a scowl.

When they reached the table, a cheerful chorus of 'Happy Birthday, Seifer!' echoed around him and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Sure, having friends were nice—he _supposed—_ but at times like these, they were more irritating than anything. In an endearing sort of way, of course.

Oddly enough, Quistis was the only one missing from the gathering. He furrowed his eyebrows at her noted absence, but decided to wait until later to ask.

Selphie patted the empty seat at the end of the booth's table and he sank down on it, his posture stiff and rigid. It was obvious to everyone that Seifer would rather be anywhere than here, at this moment in time.

An extensive pile of wrapped boxes was pushed his way and he eyed the gifts suspiciously, not reaching for a single one of them. When he still hadn't moved after a few seconds, Selphie nudged the nearest box even closer to him and he let out a resigned sigh, yanking the present into his lap.

"Whose is this one?" he gave in and asked as he tore the thin paper off.

"Mine! Mine!" Selphie piped up.

"Guess that explains why you pushed this one towards me first," he commented, and the entire group chuckled.

She grimaced—or as much as someone like Selphie could grimace—before an elated grin replaced the brief stutter in her perpetual happiness.

Once he tossed the wrapping paper aside, he lifted the tab on the box and stared at its contents. It was a clear tub of cloudy, off-white liquid and he reached in and pulled it out, balancing it in his palm as he read the label.

"Ah, gunblade oil. I'm surprised you actually picked out a useful gift, Sunshine. Thanks," he said as he placed the gift on the floor beside his chair.

Selphie beamed at his positive reception and replied, "I had to have Squall help me, because I know literally nothing about gunblades. But he said it's super useful, so I figured you'd like it!"

"Yeah, cool. Next?"

Squall threw a small box his way and it arced upwards gracefully before Seifer reached up and snatched it out of the air. As he removed the wrapping paper from this one, Rinoa leaned forward and around Squall. "That's from both of us, Seifer," she called out, with a small smile on her face as she propped her chin up on her palm.

He glanced up at her and nodded before he opened the box, his eyes widening when he saw what was inside. A dog tag was nestled on its chain, with an engraving that read the date he'd been officially declared a SeeD—three years ago now.

He opened his mouth to say something, but was struck with a sudden surge of emotion. Closing his mouth with a snap, he closed the lid of the box and rested his hand on it for a second, trying to regain his composure. Finally, he looked up at the couple and lifted the box slightly as he mumbled, "Thanks, guys."

Squall nodded and Rinoa's smile widened, clearly satisfied at how their gift had affected Seifer. He placed the box beside Selphie's and reached for the second to last one that remained on the table.

Irvine piped up and said, "That'd be the one from me and Zell." He jerked his thumb towards the martial artist who sat beside him, and Zell waved his hand in a mock salute at Seifer. A grin that could only be described as a 'shit-eating grin' was on Zell's face, and Seifer scowled in suspicion at him.

Even as kids, they'd never gotten along and though Seifer had been at Garden now for three years, not much had changed. They still tended to give each other a rather wide berth, even in their exclusive social circle. He wouldn't put it past Zell to play some kind of immature prank on him as a birthday gift. Revenge for the torture Seifer had put Zell through in their younger years, no doubt.

Hesitantly, he lifted the lid and spotted a single word that made him hastily close the lid again: 'condoms'.

"For fuck's sake, Dincht! The hell is wrong with you?" he exclaimed.

Zell snickered and the corner of Irvine's lips lifted into a smirk. With laughter causing his voice to waver, Zell said, "Figured you'd need 'em. Got you some lube, too."

"Fuck…" Seifer trailed off as he tossed the box down onto the ground.

"What, man? Technically we did you a favor! I mean, what guy complains about getting that shit?" Zell retorted.

Squall interjected with, "I would."

"Tch, whatever, Squall. You're not helping!" Zell replied, before turning back to Seifer. "You're welcome, bro."

Seifer glared at Zell and reached for the last box. "Alright, who's this one from?"

Selphie was the one who responded this time. "That one is from Quisty."

"Speaking of which, where is she?" Seifer questioned without looking up, as his dextrous fingers peeled the wrapping paper from the box.

Zell scoffed and needled, "How do you not even know where your girlfriend is, man? Maybe that box of condoms I got you _won't_ come in handy."

"Shut your damn mouth, Chicken-wuss. Shit. I'm tired of hearing your voice," Seifer threw back as he finally managed to get the box open.

 _Holy...shit…_

There were only two objects inside of the box: a lacy red thong, and a small, rectangular piece of paper that rested on top of the feminine article of clothing.

" _Meet me in your room."_

Her fluid, elegant script was a stark contrast to the incredibly sensual image that the bright, provocative thong called to his mind.

 _Wait a second. If her underwear is here and she's_ there _...fuck me!_

He shot to his feet, shoving his chair back so quickly that the metal legs scraped against the cafeteria's floor. The group winced at the sharp sound and when Seifer bolted towards the exit, box still in hand, Selphie stood up and called after him, "Hey! Where are you going? There's still cake!"

Irvine pulled her back down and said, "I think he's got other plans for now, Sephie. We'll save the cake for later, huh?"

Seifer sprinted out of the cafeteria and skidded into the hall, swiftly changing trajectories and jogging towards the dorms. He rushed past a plethora of bewildered cadets who stared after him, though he didn't particularly care what they thought of him. He had much more important things running through his mind right now.

He rounded the corner to his hallway and almost plowed right into Fujin and Raijin, who appeared to have been waiting to ambush him as he came back to his room.

"Holy shit, you two!" he shouted, his heart pounding at their unexpected appearance.

Fujin held out a present to him with a small smile on her face and Raijin whooped, pumping his fist into the air.

"Happy birthday, ya know?! Man, you're gettin' old! What are you, twenty-one now?"

Seifer held out his hands and tried to edge around his friends. "Sorry guys, I'm...I gotta get back to my room, right fuckin' now! I'll find you later!"

He rushed around them and bolted towards his dorm, leaving two incredibly confused friends in his wake.

Finally, he screeched to a halt in front of his dorm room, digging his fingers into his pocket to pull out his wallet. He fumbled with it, trying to juggle the box and pull his key card out at the same time, while nearly dropping his wallet in his haste. With a triumphant smile, he yanked the card out and swiped it, darting through the now-open doorway into his living area as he tossed his wallet and the gift box onto the couch.

"Quis? You in here?" he called out into the darkness, reaching out to flip the light switch on the wall.

"Don't. Leave it off," she replied, her voice a disembodied presence in the room.

"Uh, why?" he questioned as his eyes darted around the room, trying to pick out her silhouette.

"Because. It builds more suspense that way," she answered in a silky, sensual tone.

A grin spread across his face as he reached out his hands for her. He knew she'd find him and sure enough, she slid her slender fingers into his, interlacing them together as she dragged him towards the bedroom. Anticipation coursed through his body and he had to admit that she was right; because he couldn't see her, only feel her, it was as if her very essence, her aura, was wrapped around him, pulling him into her orbit.

She was the sun that lit up his entire life, his very existence, and he couldn't resist her gravitational pull, her incomparable brilliance. Hell, he'd never been able to resist.

She'd saved him.

When they were children, he couldn't leave her alone. She was always the one he followed around, the one he constantly teased. People always said that boys bullied the girls that they liked and he'd hadn't been any different. He had been heartbroken when she'd been adopted, though he'd never admit that aloud, even now that they were together. It had felt like she was leaving him behind, like she didn't care enough about him to stick around. Like he hadn't been worth staying with.

Then, when they were teenagers—even though she didn't remember their younger years together—she'd been the only one who'd been willing to give him a chance. She was the only instructor who pushed him to be his best, to reach his potential, even if he didn't see it at the time.

During the war, whenever they'd faced off against each other, she'd give him that _look_ —the one that she'd thrown his way more times than he could count when he'd been her student. She tested him, dared him to come back to their side and like the coward that he'd been, once he was in too deep, he couldn't bring himself to listen to her, or anyone else. He couldn't bring himself to turn tail and do the 'right thing'. So he'd pressed on, vowed to finish what he'd started and she'd berated him for that with her silence and her calculating, icy stare.

At the trial, he'd been surprised to see that she was testifying on his behalf. Much of what she'd said had stung, because it'd been the harsh truth. But _because_ it'd been the truth, he couldn't deny any of it.

That's actually what he'd always appreciated about her. She didn't sugarcoat things, she didn't twist her words. Others tried to cushion the blow, tried to leave things out because they didn't want to antagonize him, or whatever bullshit excuse they lived by.

Quistis never did that.

Once they were in the bedroom, her gentle but insistent hands pushed against his chest and he fell back onto the mattress with a broad grin on his face. He laced his fingers together and propped his hands up behind his head, as she ghosted her fingertips down his body.

After straddling him, she leaned forward and her lips tickled the outer edge of his ear. Her sultry, melodic voice finally broke the silence, and he grinned when she whispered into his ear...

"Happy birthday, Seifer."

* * *

 **Three years later - Epilogue**

He got his happy ending.

He'd gotten the girl, and in turn, the picture-perfect family. They'd bought a house in Balamb, complete with his own damn white-picket fence. He had everything he'd ever wanted, desired, dreamed of.

What could he possibly complain about? What, in Hyne's name, could possibly go wrong?

Today was a Thursday.

Recently, both he and Quistis had adjusted their teaching schedules so that they had Friday through Sunday off, because the renovations on the house were taking up a huge chunk of their time. Seifer had been working on fixing up the kitchen over the past two weeks, and they _should_ be finishing up this weekend—provided Raijin got his lazy-ass over to the house and pitched in, like he'd promised he would.

They lived just two houses down, Raijin and Fujin. He'd never admit this to them but he was eternally grateful that they'd chosen to remain close-by. He couldn't imagine a life without them constantly in it. They'd been there for him when he was an angry, bitter teen, pulling him out of the never-ending cycle of self-hatred and self-blame. They'd also been there for him—the _only_ ones who'd been there for him—when he'd fallen from grace. Now, they were there in this new phase of his life and it just felt _right,_ Hyne-damn it.

Everything felt right.

A plethora of cardboard boxes littered the ground around him, filled to their limit with porcelain tiles that Seifer was currently using to line the kitchen walls. One thing he'd learned about Quistis over the years was that she had very exclusive taste, which extended to _expensive_ taste. That shouldn't have surprised him but…

Here he was, tiling the backsplash.

Seifer bent over and grabbed another tile out of the box, slathering the backside with grout. He leaned over to place it against the wall, when a voice he'd never expected to hear again—had hoped to never hear again—drifted across his mind.

 _My . . . Knight . . ._

He bolted upright and the tile slipped out of his hand, crashing against the floor and shattering into alabaster fragments.

With his heart pounding in his chest and his palms clammy with new-found moisture, he thought, _What the hell…?_

Rapid footsteps approached from down the hall and Quistis slid into the kitchen, her eyes wide. "Seifer, what—" she exclaimed, before her eyes fell on the broken tile that lay scattered across the kitchen floor. She glanced back up at him, her eyebrows pinched together in concern and tried again. "What happened?"

"I...Nothing, sorry. It slipped," he mumbled.

"It _slipped_? If I didn't know for a fact that you had lightning fast reflexes, I might've bought that," she retorted as she carefully stepped around the shards of porcelain.

She came to a stop in front of him and cradled his face in her hands, studying his eyes. "Are you sick? You've been working nonstop on the house lately. Maybe you're suffering from exhaustion?"

"Hyne, Quis, I'm not an old man yet. I'm fine. It _slipped_ ," he answered defensively, pushing her hands away.

She pulled back and crossed her arms over her chest, tightly wrapping her fingers around her biceps. "Are you sure? I can stop working on the bathroom and come help you…" she trailed off as he leaned down and interrupted her by pressing his lips against hers.

"I'm fine. Stop worrying," he reassured.

Quistis turned to leave but hesitated and looked back at Seifer. He rolled his eyes at her obvious reluctance to leave him alone and sighed in exasperation, before insisting, "I'm _fine_! The bathroom's never gonna get done if you sit here and watch me, woman. Go!"

She shot him a glare before she left the room, her footsteps gradually fading. Now that he was alone, he braced his palms against the counter, leaning on it as he lowered his head onto his chest.

 _Seriously...what the hell?_

It'd been five years since he'd last heard Ultimecia's voice. The last time she'd spoken to him was right around the time he'd seen Quistis in Timber, after the trial. Ever since then, she'd been silent. In fact, he'd thought that he'd finally gotten rid of her, that he was finally free from her grasp; that he was _normal_.

Apparently, he'd been wrong.

Choosing to ignore what he'd heard, he filed it away in the back of his mind as some kind of twisted reaction to being overworked. He leaned over and grabbed a new tile from the box, hesitantly coating the back of this one with grout, just like he had with the last one. When he didn't hear her voice again, he placed the tile against the wall and centered it, straightening when his mind remained silent.

With a grunt, he shook his head, putting the bizarre occurrence behind him as he repeated his motion from earlier, and grabbed another tile.

An hour later, Fujin and Raijin finally showed up and with his help, the backsplash was completed by dinnertime. Fujin chose to help Quistis with the bathroom floor, and they managed to get the tiles completely laid within a couple of hours. Raijin had apparently caught some Balamb Fish over the last weekend, and brought a few with him to throw on the grill for dinner.

"You sure we're not gonna get sick, Rai?" Seifer joked, and Quistis politely covered her mouth as she laughed at his teasing. Fujin joined her and even interjected with her own good-natured quip at her man.

Raijin pretended to be upset and threw a playful insult back at Seifer, though he chose to ignore Fujin's. Their bantering then turned into a contest between friends as to who had the best comeback, which filled the room with raucous laughter. However, throughout the entire meal, Seifer couldn't help but think about what he'd heard earlier. It...bothered him that he'd heard Ultimecia's voice again, nearly six years later. No, bothered was an understatement.

He was severely disturbed.

Quistis had apparently picked up on his abnormal mood swing and kept glancing over at him. She'd reach under the table to squeeze his hand from time to time, as if to reassure him that he wasn't alone anymore. He knew that. It was just difficult for him to talk to her about something that he considered a weakness.

Regardless of whether he'd been manipulated or not, he _was_ the one who'd joined the other side. This was just one of his many consequences.

Once dinner was over, his friends headed home, promising to return the next day to help with more renovations. By then, it was nearly ten at night, and like the old married couple that Seifer joked they were turning into, they migrated upstairs to head to bed. After they'd climbed under the covers, Quistis had fallen asleep almost immediately. But Seifer didn't. He laid there on his back, staring up at the exposed trusses of their vaulted bedroom ceiling.

Every time his eyelids drooped, wanting to shut for the night, he'd hear her voice again: the velvety, eerie tone fluttered throughout his mind like the faint feeling of a butterfly's wings against your cheeks. It was almost as if she refused to let him ignore her, refused to let him fall asleep peacefully without answering her at least once.

The fifth time it happened, he threw back the covers in frustration and padded over to the doors that led out onto their bedroom's balcony. Quietly, so that he wouldn't wake Quistis, he pulled the door to the side and stepped out, sliding it shut behind him. With a clenched jaw, he ambled over to the railing and leaned against it, interlacing his fingers as he gazed up at the full moon, hanging low in the sky. Reluctantly, he lowered the barriers in his mind that he'd kept up all night. In a voice so clear, as if she was standing right in front of him, she spoke.

 _You have been ignoring me, my Knight. You know how that makes me feel._

A wave of anger coursed through him at her condescending attitude. She was chiding him like an errant child, the same way she had when he was eighteen and an _idiot_.

 _Fuck you, you crazy bitch. You're the one who ignored me for the past five or six years. The hell could you possibly want now?_

A fleeting chuckle echoed throughout his mind and she continued on to say, _I find it amusing that you thought you could be rid of me forever. I simply left you alone so that you would believe you were safe, in your own little fairytale. Have you been_ happy _?_

The realization that she'd only been toying with him, manipulating him into thinking that he was free from her clutches, that the past five years of fuckin' _bliss_ were just her twisted version of a gift she'd given him... _pissed him off_.

 _You know what? Fuck this! I don't deserve this and I'm sure as hell not gonna give you the time of the day. Leave me the hell alone, Ultimecia!_

Her displeasure, tinged with a hint of lingering amusement at his stubbornness, floated through his thoughts. _Because of your unwavering loyalty . . . all those years ago, I will grant you a brief respite from my presence. However, do not think for a single second, that you will_ ever _be completely rid of me._

 _The bond between a sorceress and her knight is eternal. I am as much a part of you as your love for that woman is. I will always be here with you,_ inside _of you . . ._

Seifer straightened and clenched his fists so tightly, his nails dug into his palms.

 _You're not real. They killed you. You're just a figment of my own twisted and fucked up imagination, and if it's the last fuckin' thing I do, I_ will _find a way to be free from you._

He didn't dare think it or say it out loud but, what terrified him the most was that...maybe, just maybe, she wasn't _actually_ in his mind. Squall and the sunshine gang had killed her in her own time. She should be gone, erased from existence. Which meant, the possibility that he was just _insane_ and that his mind would continue to deteriorate, was much more likely. What if, the more he aged, the more she'd speak to him? What if...she never went away?

Ultimecia never answered his last comment because the sound of the door sliding open again interrupted his deranged mental conversation, and he whirled around, spotting Quistis in the open doorway.

His wild eyes met her pale, tranquil ones and she stepped out onto the balcony, shutting the door behind her. Without a word, she wandered over to stand beside him, leaning against the railing just as he had earlier.

When she didn't say anything after a few seconds, Seifer hesitantly mirrored her stance, following her gaze up at the moon. As if sensing he needed comfort but didn't want to talk about it just yet, she held her hand out for him and he chuckled under his breath as he laced his fingers through hers, clasping her hand tightly.

 _Now . . . isn't that . . . precious . . ._

At the sound of Ultimecia's voice, he grit his teeth and as a reflex, his fingers also tightened around Quistis' hand. She glanced up at him and held his gaze, silently questioning his reaction.

He didn't respond and it was then that she finally spoke up. "Are you alright?"

Unsure of how to answer that question—which was normally such an easy thing to do, yet in this moment, it was one of the most difficult ones to answer—he shook his head.

She faced him head-on and tugged insistently on his hand. "Seifer...what's going on? There was that thing in the kitchen earlier, when you dropped that tile, and then at dinner, you were uncharacteristically quiet."

Here it was, the moment he'd have to admit to her that he was really just a pathetic, weak, useless man.

"Seifer?" she prompted, her voice filled with concern.

"I heard her today. Ultimecia," he blurted out.

At the sound of a name she never thought she'd hear again, Quistis reeled back, dropping Seifer's hand like it was on fire. "W-What?"

"When I dropped that tile in the kitchen, earlier? That was why. I heard her voice."

She blinked up at him in disbelief, obviously having difficulty processing what he'd told her. "When...when was the last time you did?"

"In Timber. Sometime between the two times you came to check up on me," he explained, leaning his back against the railing.

"That was, that was five years ago— _over_ five years ago," she mumbled.

He clenched his jaw. "I know."

She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself as she whispered, "What did she say?"

Seifer stared into their bedroom, a place that had been so peaceful, so safe, before tonight. Now, he was afraid to step back through that door, for fear that Ultimecia would taint everything he touched.

After a moment of hesitation, he muttered, "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Seifer…"

"I _don't_ wanna talk about it, Quistis. Not right now," he demanded.

She'd been reaching out to touch him and when he snapped at her, she quickly drew her arm back, tucking it underneath the warmth and safety of her over-sized sweater-wrap-thing. He didn't know what the hell he was supposed to call it.

She stared up at him as he continued to look anywhere but at her, and after a minute or two, the oppressive feel of her eyes on him made him push off of the railing and head back inside. He yanked the sliding door shut, causing it to rattle in the frame, and stomped over to their bed. After sinking down onto it and running his hands through his hair, eventually, he laced his fingers behind his head and let out a long exhale.

He wasn't frustrated at Quistis, not at all. More so that she'd been caught up in the convoluted web that Ultimecia had spun within his mind, that even he apparently couldn't escape. It wasn't her fault. It was his. He was pissed at _himself_ , for failing yet again.

It wasn't until a few minutes after he'd sat down, that he heard the whooshing sound of the door sliding open again. He let his hands fall into his lap as he lowered his head. The door shut and the soft sound of her footsteps padding across the carpet neared, until the mattress sunk down behind him and her arms wrapped around his chest. She leaned her head against his back and let out a shaky breath. She'd been crying.

 _Fuckin' great. Another thing I ruined_ , he thought bitterly.

As Quistis let out quiet sobs against his back, he clenched his jaw so tightly, he could feel the muscle twitching. The more he listened to her cry, the more frustrated he became. It wasn't fair that she'd chosen him, chosen someone who'd had an immense amount of baggage that would likely never disappear. Sure, they'd hoped that they'd be so lucky, but of course, life never worked out that way.

It wasn't fair that she had to deal with his shit. She always had.

A surge of resentment rushed through him and he twisted around, grabbing her wrists and pinning her down against the bed. A breathless gasp left her at his sudden movement and she gazed up at him with shining eyes, her tears still escaping from their corners and falling down into her hair.

"Why, Quistis? Why would you choose me knowing this would always be a possibility? That it'd be you, me, and a _fuckin' sorceress_ for the rest of our lives?" he spat.

She fought against his grip and angrily countered, "Don't you _dare_ ask me that when you know the answer!"

"Was I really worth all this bullshit? All this heartache? Huh?" he exclaimed.

With desperate breaths she cried, "Yes! Yes, you are! I told you that the day I admitted that I fell in love with you. You were always worth it, Seifer. You _always_ will be. We'll get through this, we will…" She trailed off, overtaken with a new wave of tears.

His previous resentment and anger was now replaced with a flood of overwhelming emotion and ignorance of what else to do. He crushed his lips against hers, wanting nothing more than to get lost in her, to forget everything that had to do with Ultimecia. She sensed his need for distraction—of course she did, she knew him better than anyone else by now—and when he released her wrists to cradle her within his arms, she wrapped hers around his neck, bringing him closer.

By the luminescence of the moon streaming in through their windows, they let go.

Let go of all of their fears, all of their inhibitions. Their past, their tears.

Seifer's lips trailed along the delicate skin of Quistis' throat, eliciting a gasp from her.

Quistis trailed her fingertips down his bare back and her feather-light touch caused him to shiver.

His strong, masculine hips drove into her soft, feminine core, and they groaned in unison at the sensation of melding together, of becoming one.

Finally—or all too soon, in Seifer's opinion—she broke apart in his arms, and as he joined her in a stolen moment of mind-blowing, earth-shaking euphoria, he held her close, until the shattered fragments of the woman he loved came back together. She opened her eyes and gazed up at him, cradling his face within her palm and he pressed a gentle kiss against her skin, closing his eyes and wishing this moment would never end.

She pulled him with her as she rolled away, tucking her back against his front. They laid there and the only sound in the room was their breathing, which Seifer was grateful for. He tightened his arm around Quistis, shoving his face into the crook of her neck.

As always, she sensed that he needed reassurance and laced her fingers through his and squeezed. "I'm still here, Seifer. I always will be," she whispered.

He realized that _this_ was why he'd always loved her—even back when he was a kid and had no idea what love really was. She fought for the things she believed in, the people she cared about. She never backed down from a challenge or a fight and though he'd seen that first hand, he'd always admired that about her. It just turned out that...the aspect of her personality that drove him insane and pissed him off in the past, would end up becoming the very thing he loved about her the most.

Though the future frightened him, and he would likely never know for sure whether he'd ever be free from Ultimecia's grasp, the knowledge that Quistis was still willing to fight with him, to stay by his side, made it seem less terrifying.

Though he knew the silence in their room was some kind of twisted offering, and a large part of him resented that, he was relieved.

In the safety of their shared sanctuary, he nuzzled the curve of Quistis' shoulder and murmured, "I know you are."

...

...

 **The End.**

* * *

 _Thank you, so very much, for reading._

 _Started June 7th, 2015. Completed July 27th, 2015._


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